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She tried it before a particularly dangerous meal: pizza night. She drank her vinegar "tonic," ate her green salad, then devoured two slices of pepperoni pizza.
The vinegar became a ritual. A small, sour sacrifice to the gods of stable energy. She discovered that a splash of rice vinegar in miso soup worked. A vinaigrette on her green starter did the trick, too. She no longer had to drink the straight stuff.
She ate her green starter—a handful of spinach. She drank her vinegar tonic—a splash of balsamic in sparkling water. She ate the croissant. It was flaky, buttery, magnificent. Then, she put on her sneakers and walked to the corner and back.
