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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 11596 | 2020-04-24 13:59:14 | 129.14 | 96% |
| 9905 | 2020-02-07 16:33:37 | 135.14 | 98% |
| 7655 | 2020-01-23 20:25:26 | 150.89 | 98% |
| 6404 | 2019-12-26 16:20:21 | 118.52 | 97% |
| 4751 | 2019-12-13 17:17:02 | 107.95 | 97% |