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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 29049 | 2021-04-01 21:21:47 | 153.27 | 98% |
| 19414 | 2019-01-12 01:00:53 | 132.28 | 98% |
| 10093 | 2018-09-05 21:50:18 | 128.85 | 98% |
| 992 | 2018-07-10 03:25:20 | 111.21 | 98% |
| 594 | 2018-07-09 03:25:19 | 103.82 | 97% |