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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1417 | 2022-11-21 20:30:57 | 95.45 | 98% |
| 972 | 2022-09-12 20:20:41 | 93.53 | 97% |
| 291 | 2022-04-23 02:14:42 | 88.43 | 96% |