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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10102 | 2024-03-31 15:28:28 | 109.17 | 96% |
| 9956 | 2024-03-28 17:46:58 | 115.75 | 96.2% |
| 8013 | 2024-01-16 13:14:07 | 106.73 | 96.5% |
| 4867 | 2021-10-11 19:25:49 | 101.05 | 96% |