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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2119 | 2023-05-27 04:16:34 | 73.78 | 99% |
| 412 | 2016-12-11 22:17:05 | 71.31 | 100% |
| 241 | 2016-05-29 17:04:19 | 62.65 | 99% |
| 157 | 2016-05-15 22:33:36 | 64.17 | 99% |