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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 15551 | 2022-10-03 20:37:25 | 163.18 | 99% |
| 15550 | 2022-10-03 20:36:43 | 150.47 | 99% |
| 13153 | 2022-01-06 21:37:02 | 147.58 | 99% |
| 8366 | 2021-02-04 17:05:56 | 150.72 | 99% |
| 4369 | 2020-05-15 18:10:58 | 144.60 | 99% |
| 329 | 2019-02-11 22:02:12 | 122.01 | 96% |