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 |
|---|---|---|---|
| 26853 | 2023-04-29 19:54:43 | 169.45 | 98.5% |
| 26293 | 2023-03-19 02:28:15 | 152.64 | 98.3% |
| 14330 | 2018-06-30 23:17:05 | 173.88 | 99.2% |
| 13481 | 2018-05-29 01:26:09 | 153.23 | 97.3% |
| 11259 | 2018-03-13 23:05:33 | 139.52 | 96% |
| 5013 | 2017-09-30 23:38:13 | 132.11 | 98% |
| 1621 | 2017-06-11 08:12:31 | 129.06 | 99% |