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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 23636 | 2020-07-18 20:58:17 | 152.90 | 99% |
| 14238 | 2020-05-08 22:29:04 | 135.93 | 99% |
| 9552 | 2020-04-03 22:14:36 | 134.61 | 99% |
| 8994 | 2020-03-23 03:49:02 | 140.01 | 99% |
| 971 | 2019-04-28 04:09:57 | 119.43 | 99% |
| 831 | 2019-01-02 19:09:31 | 69.61 | 96% |