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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 22153 | 2020-07-25 00:20:15 | 165.76 | 98% |
| 16898 | 2020-05-07 22:13:21 | 156.40 | 99% |
| 15648 | 2020-04-21 19:42:48 | 136.74 | 98% |
| 15237 | 2020-04-19 13:53:09 | 138.36 | 99% |
| 15169 | 2020-04-18 05:30:04 | 159.40 | 99% |
| 14338 | 2020-04-01 23:18:11 | 140.32 | 98% |
| 12738 | 2020-03-20 22:06:48 | 141.35 | 98% |
| 10649 | 2020-02-09 17:06:34 | 150.82 | 98% |
| 5998 | 2020-01-14 15:48:10 | 132.38 | 99% |
| 5927 | 2020-01-14 05:25:54 | 136.05 | 99% |
| 5282 | 2020-01-11 20:34:27 | 142.14 | 98% |
| 609 | 2019-04-13 09:33:31 | 131.59 | 98% |