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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 7227 | 2021-10-20 07:39:54 | 72.76 | 95% |
| 6029 | 2019-07-01 11:49:22 | 87.30 | 97% |
| 4439 | 2018-08-16 20:27:48 | 76.76 | 97% |