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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 10995 | 2024-03-30 03:42:42 | 177.12 | 98.6% |
| 9135 | 2023-10-12 02:41:17 | 192.71 | 98.7% |
| 244 | 2021-07-20 07:29:36 | 183.62 | 98% |