2- Apple Juice

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My eyes scan the label of the orange pill bottle Amiodarone in my hand

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My eyes scan the label of the orange pill bottle Amiodarone in my hand.

I learned to live with my condition since I was seven, I couldn't drink too much coffee, soda- anything with too much caffeine, or too much sugar. I was able to exercise, playing soccer all throughout high school, but I still had to be cautious and I would have difficulty sleeping.

The first time I had sex, my heartbeat was through the roof and I almost went to the hospital. But to be fair that was when my condition was more severe back then, but my doctors cleared me for sex when I was twenty, three years ago.

I have a type of arrhythmia, ventricular tachycardia, a condition in which the heart beats irregularly either too slow or too fast. I had my few shares of episode where my heart could never make up its mind.

Since I wanted to distract myself from my health I started baking. I would make good cakes but the presentation would be awful, it still is, but now it's on purpose.
I think the bad looking frosting and decorations add character and lowers the expectations of the taste, so when eats the desert it unexpectedly delicious.

I put the pill bottle back in the cabinet before closing it and my reflection looks back at me.

My long, curly hair was thrown in a neat ponytail, my lips glistened with red tinted lipgloss, and the bags under my eyes were hidden under light makeup. I dressed myself in a flowy, low waisted hunter green skirt that ends an inch or two below my knees accompanied with a white ruched crop blouse; to tie it together I add simple, gold waist chain and earrings.

Pretty.

I smile at myself before going to my apartment kitchen and taking the cake out of the refrigerator.  It was simple French vanilla cake with buttercream frosting that was applied unevenly on the cake and a red car...well dark pink. The red got mixed into the white.

My car is in the shop, and I thought it would be nice to give it to the mechanic as a thank you. I hope they don't mind the cake looking like it's been done by a twelve year old.

I box the cake and gently place it in a big enough tote bag that had the Spiderman symbol in the middle, before I slid into my white sandals and I grab my purse before walking out of the apartment door.

A gust of when blew at my skirt and curls as I walk down the sidewalk watching the cars whizz by making sure not to bump into anyone. As much as I enjoy soaking in the environment around me I couldn't do it everyday, except the walking part. After ten minutes my feet were feeling sore and were yelling at me to sit down, to give them a break.

I stop walking to look for a place where I could rest for a while, I decided out of all the places the small coffee shop would be the best. Ironically I can't have any, but it was either the coffee shop or the bar, tattoo parlor, or the drug store. I chose what I thought would be the calmest setting. Much to my feet's discomfort I start walking again towards the coffee shop.

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