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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 60068 | 2020-08-15 12:18:53 | 114.93 | 96% |
| 56491 | 2020-07-23 12:16:06 | 134.28 | 97% |
| 54832 | 2020-07-12 22:22:19 | 91.78 | 96% |
| 51142 | 2020-06-26 22:01:49 | 134.22 | 98% |
| 47946 | 2020-06-11 06:58:59 | 115.02 | 97% |
| 42159 | 2020-05-12 00:33:24 | 100.82 | 95% |
| 35165 | 2020-04-03 22:14:40 | 121.27 | 98% |
| 30273 | 2020-02-27 11:15:22 | 121.13 | 98% |
| 29315 | 2020-02-15 10:07:43 | 114.88 | 98% |
| 26209 | 2020-01-01 09:54:49 | 103.81 | 96% |
| 8267 | 2019-05-11 07:14:50 | 109.00 | 97% |
| 6332 | 2019-04-18 16:11:41 | 123.02 | 99% |