Your hands shake as you reach for the gummies, your blood sugar monitor beeping in your eye loudly. You get to the gummies, knocking them to ground. “Fuck!” You say quietly, quickly making your way to the kitchen to find something to bring your sugar back up.

Once inside, you walk over to the fridge and pull out an apple juice, taking the straw and jabbing it into the box, taking a large sip. As soon as you take a sip, somebody walks in. “Didn’t take you for somebody who likes apple juice.”