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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 15817 | 2021-06-15 21:06:23 | 112.00 | 99% |
| 9808 | 2020-01-23 06:14:40 | 110.35 | 99% |
| 9713 | 2020-01-17 14:26:15 | 110.65 | 98% |
| 7055 | 2019-10-27 18:36:59 | 106.85 | 98% |
| 2468 | 2017-05-28 01:03:05 | 95.20 | 93% |
| 760 | 2017-01-03 01:44:37 | 83.69 | 91% |
| 23 | 2016-11-19 06:22:57 | 91.14 | 95% |