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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 23898 | 2024-02-14 07:49:46 | 170.16 | 97% |
| 21004 | 2023-08-11 22:10:30 | 186.58 | 100% |
| 20134 | 2023-07-20 00:55:04 | 190.20 | 99% |
| 19751 | 2023-07-06 21:13:28 | 160.32 | 99% |
| 18811 | 2023-06-17 01:59:39 | 147.31 | 98% |
| 17001 | 2023-02-24 01:33:54 | 155.38 | 99% |
| 16150 | 2022-12-03 22:24:10 | 162.26 | 99% |
| 14981 | 2022-09-21 02:27:02 | 157.06 | 99% |
| 14328 | 2022-08-11 07:15:43 | 139.32 | 97% |
| 4654 | 2021-04-06 18:49:41 | 159.82 | 99% |
| 3201 | 2021-03-17 09:19:46 | 146.70 | 99% |