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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 13155 | 2022-08-29 03:15:59 | 134.65 | 99% |
| 11519 | 2021-12-26 11:26:13 | 144.14 | 99% |
| 5605 | 2020-05-17 05:53:28 | 103.56 | 98% |