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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2251 | 2023-07-09 23:35:34 | 138.89 | 100% |
| 939 | 2023-03-30 04:04:00 | 135.97 | 99% |
| 532 | 2023-03-09 22:42:34 | 121.17 | 99% |