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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6784 | 2021-03-07 02:36:10 | 127.05 | 98% |
| 3749 | 2020-11-06 21:32:19 | 110.05 | 96% |
| 2300 | 2020-07-25 08:24:59 | 99.41 | 96% |