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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 1716 | 2022-06-13 11:52:15 | 90.96 | 97% |
| 1349 | 2022-04-02 13:00:18 | 100.80 | 98% |
| 980 | 2022-02-06 17:18:50 | 85.06 | 96% |