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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 9583 | 2024-08-12 17:22:31 | 71.36 | 97.6% |
| 9556 | 2024-08-11 20:05:39 | 83.30 | 97.1% |
| 8298 | 2024-06-23 20:03:28 | 80.24 | 98.2% |
| 2096 | 2021-09-28 18:10:20 | 74.37 | 97% |