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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 23294 | 2024-04-23 23:51:54 | 164.80 | 98.5% |
| 18515 | 2023-07-23 02:17:36 | 165.47 | 99% |
| 13751 | 2020-05-09 10:06:46 | 153.95 | 99% |
| 11215 | 2020-03-02 19:22:26 | 129.79 | 97% |
| 10797 | 2020-02-28 03:55:48 | 142.98 | 98% |
| 3933 | 2018-09-05 20:30:13 | 119.59 | 97% |