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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 5472 | 2024-02-15 18:54:23 | 107.91 | 98% |
| 3298 | 2017-05-18 02:50:09 | 77.90 | 86% |
| 2585 | 2017-04-25 20:26:04 | 69.84 | 86% |
| 2566 | 2017-04-25 20:01:11 | 81.87 | 90% |
| 1585 | 2017-02-09 20:24:32 | 69.29 | 84% |
| 1527 | 2017-02-08 19:31:37 | 64.26 | 86% |
| 418 | 2017-01-25 20:57:39 | 63.66 | 85% |