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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3583 | 2019-09-14 10:09:00 | 80.89 | 100% |
| 3172 | 2019-09-09 12:36:20 | 67.28 | 99% |
| 2018 | 2019-08-26 23:19:36 | 85.05 | 100% |
| 1797 | 2019-08-24 23:27:41 | 71.56 | 99% |