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 |
---|---|---|---|
807 | 2021-11-16 21:01:19 | 97.45 | 97% |
113 | 2021-02-17 01:31:56 | 86.79 | 97.1% |