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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 15866 | 2020-03-30 21:19:33 | 137.72 | 98% |
| 14337 | 2019-06-04 16:43:50 | 147.02 | 99% |
| 4804 | 2017-10-22 12:26:53 | 130.79 | 98% |
| 4481 | 2017-10-21 04:19:01 | 120.39 | 97% |