As Leo pulled back onto the I-15, the clean, bitter snap of the tea cleared the fog in his head. No jitters, no sugar crash—just the steady rhythm of the tires and the long, clear road ahead.
"Smart," the trucker said, heading toward the register. "Hydrated brains don't miss exit ramps."
Leo jumped. An old trucker was leaning against a display of motor oil, peeling a banana. "That stuff's just liquid panic. You want to actually get there?" healthy drinks to buy at gas stations
"Probiotics," the trucker nodded. "Settles the road-gut. Or look for the . It’s got more potassium than those neon sports drinks without the corn syrup."
Leo shifted his gaze. He saw a tucked between the sodas. "Is that actually good?" As Leo pulled back onto the I-15, the
The neon hum of the "Stop ‘n Go" was the only thing keeping Leo awake at 2:00 AM. He had six hours of desert highway left and a stomach that was beginning to protest a three-day diet of beef jerky and blue electrolyte drinks.
Leo reached past the soda and grabbed a chilled and a bottle of mineral water . "Hydrated brains don't miss exit ramps
He stood before the glowing wall of the beverage cooler, his reflection looking haggard against the glass. His hand instinctively hovered over a sugar-blasted energy drink—the kind that promised "Xtreme Focus" but usually delivered a heart tremor and a mid-drive crash. "Don't do it, man," a voice croaked from the aisle.
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