Food is medicine. Chartreuse leaves sparkled with vitality. Megan had tried yogi. She had tried mediation and deep breathing. Megan had even prepared for a 5K well she bought sneakers. Nothing made her feel better. She held up a bunch of celery to the morning light and beamed.
With reverence Megan broke off each stalk with a satisfying snap. Her fingers lavished each stalk in cool water. She had heard of the benefits of celery juice on a morning talk show and again and again in those radio ads. After a few hours of internet research, Megan knew she was on to something real, some revolutionary. The last few years had been hard and the last few weeks unbearable. Her joints ached, her back was sore, and she was so tired. She fell asleep constantly while working from home, during Zoom classes, in front of the TV on the sofa. Days seeped into one another and Megan was a zombie circling the walls of her condo. The Vitatasic Juice Cyclone newly unboxed gleamed on the countertop.
The juicer roared devouring leafy yellow green stalks. The scent of celery filled the kitchen reminding of Megan of countless past diets. She shook away the tragic memories of nonfat cottage cheese and celery stick lunches. This is different, she thought. Megan smiled down at the thin liquid with murky sludge at the bottom. This is resuscitation in a glass, not just a return to health but freedom from the threat of new disease. Megan drank.
The glass sat half empty on the counter. Flushed and sweaty, Megan rested her forehead against wonderfully cool toilet bowl rim. She kneeled on the floor of her bathroom until the bitter dregs in her stomach quieted. After a few more dry heaves she washed her face, fished her sneakers out from under the bed, and went outside to take a long walk.