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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2549 | 2018-11-15 04:10:40 | 95.58 | 96% |
| 2540 | 2018-11-14 10:59:05 | 98.63 | 96% |
| 2500 | 2018-11-08 13:36:08 | 94.05 | 97% |
| 2412 | 2018-10-20 05:33:11 | 94.35 | 97% |