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 |
---|---|---|---|
3562 | 2021-06-10 19:38:13 | 190.24 | 99% |
1270 | 2021-05-03 17:14:02 | 165.03 | 97% |
669 | 2021-04-20 21:45:37 | 161.46 | 97% |