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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 3104 | 2021-04-15 12:20:47 | 115.84 | 98% |
| 2363 | 2017-02-17 00:27:35 | 99.05 | 95% |
| 1815 | 2015-12-11 05:37:57 | 94.79 | 94% |
| 1624 | 2015-11-29 15:07:19 | 86.10 | 91% |
| 841 | 2015-10-17 14:26:04 | 86.60 | 91% |
| 790 | 2015-10-16 04:48:10 | 76.76 | 91% |
| 703 | 2015-10-12 20:52:27 | 93.42 | 96% |
| 575 | 2015-10-09 15:35:33 | 88.79 | 96% |
| 411 | 2015-10-05 21:58:29 | 75.83 | 90% |