I was stealing saltshakers again. Ten, sometimes twelve a night, shoving them in my pockets, hiding them up my sleeves, smuggling them out of bars and diners and anywhere else I could find them. In the morning, wherever I woke up, I was always covered in salt. I was cured meat. I had become beef jerky. Even as a small, small child, I knew it would one day come to this.
| Game | Time | WPM | Accuracy |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8351 | 2022-04-27 15:35:46 | 69.35 | 96% |
| 2546 | 2019-10-17 12:20:34 | 60.13 | 96% |
| 1534 | 2019-09-22 16:07:47 | 60.13 | 97% |