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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2885 | 2021-09-18 19:15:01 | 92.05 | 97% |
| 1434 | 2018-05-20 07:52:16 | 78.22 | 96% |
| 285 | 2017-11-19 17:31:44 | 61.88 | 93% |