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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2849 | 2022-01-08 17:04:12 | 113.35 | 98% |
| 2700 | 2021-12-22 22:54:00 | 112.93 | 98% |
| 403 | 2021-10-18 17:33:45 | 104.70 | 98% |