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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 15680 | 2021-06-22 10:43:04 | 83.67 | 98% |
| 13302 | 2021-04-25 07:09:35 | 66.42 | 97% |
| 11838 | 2021-03-11 12:31:19 | 78.81 | 98% |
| 11427 | 2021-01-26 15:49:20 | 82.35 | 99% |
| 2491 | 2020-02-15 16:13:25 | 65.17 | 96% |