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Leo shifted his gaze. He saw a tucked between the sodas. "Is that actually good?"
"Smart," the trucker said, heading toward the register. "Hydrated brains don't miss exit ramps."
The trucker pointed a weathered finger at the bottom shelf. "Get the or a bottled cold brew . No sugar, just the caffeine. If your nerves are already fried, grab a sparkling water —the bubbles trick your brain into thinking you’re snacking."
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?"
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.
"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 reached past the soda and grabbed a chilled and a bottle of mineral water .
