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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11009 | 2019-06-14 08:29:33 | 72.46 | 97% |
| 9666 | 2016-05-25 10:03:35 | 69.73 | 93% |
| 9468 | 2016-03-30 12:55:13 | 71.51 | 95% |
| 8586 | 2015-09-28 09:00:20 | 76.71 | 96% |
| 8580 | 2015-09-24 10:12:12 | 74.40 | 96% |