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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 2805 | 2021-02-01 15:13:20 | 85.68 | 96.9% |
| 2659 | 2021-01-28 17:04:24 | 92.21 | 97.2% |
| 2635 | 2021-01-27 14:54:00 | 87.41 | 97% |