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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 30411 | 2021-09-13 13:21:43 | 88.53 | 95% |
| 29426 | 2021-06-28 14:24:32 | 103.96 | 97% |
| 18527 | 2020-03-02 19:22:33 | 108.89 | 98% |
| 9139 | 2018-11-25 14:15:10 | 102.90 | 98% |
| 6193 | 2018-09-22 13:35:39 | 84.16 | 96% |
| 4329 | 2018-07-23 19:15:21 | 85.27 | 96% |