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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3578 | 2021-05-02 07:29:43 | 76.26 | 95% |
| 3126 | 2021-04-17 11:41:37 | 69.04 | 96% |
| 2725 | 2021-03-24 08:21:55 | 70.22 | 96% |
| 2063 | 2021-03-11 19:41:15 | 70.07 | 97% |
| 750 | 2021-02-17 11:45:36 | 62.59 | 94.5% |
| 489 | 2021-02-12 09:15:55 | 66.08 | 95% |