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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 8749 | 2021-05-07 21:42:18 | 79.47 | 96% |
| 2672 | 2019-01-26 20:19:01 | 105.80 | 99% |
| 2611 | 2019-01-23 09:34:46 | 81.61 | 97% |