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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 18100 | 2021-07-17 17:51:46 | 107.35 | 98% |
| 16110 | 2016-07-07 04:34:13 | 101.60 | 95% |
| 15344 | 2016-06-25 15:38:03 | 97.87 | 94% |
| 14758 | 2016-06-21 02:39:54 | 106.81 | 97% |
| 14673 | 2016-06-19 19:01:14 | 92.41 | 91% |
| 14461 | 2016-06-18 06:58:07 | 102.94 | 95% |
| 12087 | 2015-04-22 00:09:37 | 92.60 | 93% |