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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 4773 | 2022-01-13 00:38:27 | 80.80 | 97% |
| 3569 | 2021-11-04 15:12:52 | 82.26 | 97% |
| 1720 | 2021-06-06 00:09:21 | 79.25 | 98% |