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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 6258 | 2022-04-03 11:32:37 | 92.79 | 98% |
| 2805 | 2021-02-20 09:55:56 | 65.42 | 96.1% |
| 625 | 2020-05-17 13:08:01 | 61.84 | 96% |