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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7560 | 2023-03-20 10:40:56 | 77.86 | 97% |
| 6030 | 2023-01-16 05:08:11 | 83.62 | 98% |
| 5343 | 2022-05-04 04:16:33 | 68.00 | 96% |
| 1895 | 2021-09-08 10:54:46 | 72.25 | 98% |