I was only thirty minutes from home when I realized I needed orange Tic Tacs. Not wanted, needed, to satisfy the craving gnawing at me. Tank, my five-pound Pomeranian, had just taken his heart medication and was buried in his fur blanket on the passenger seat, probably dreaming of sweet potatoes straight from my fork, oblivious to the world. I pulled into the Safeway in Cle Elum where I hardly know a soul.
Cle Elum itself is quiet, an old coal town now catering to tourists and weekenders, but the store was not. I’ve never seen a grocery store so crowded. Lines were four or five people deep, faces grim and focused on surviving the chaos. And there I was, without a cart, on a single-minded mission for orange Tic Tacs.
I moved from one checkout stand to another, stepping in front of people with a casual “excuse me,” not feeling embarrassed or hesitant in the least. I didn’t know anyone there, but I threaded through the lines as if I did. Peppermint Tic Tacs. Tropical fruit Tic Tacs. No orange. I blocked out everyone else entirely, determined to find what I came for.
On my fourth disappointing shuffle through the lines, I struck up a conversation with a woman slightly older than me. “Is it always like this?” I asked. Her face twisted in irritation. “Always,” she said. “If you come at seven a.m., you’ll be okay.” I told her I was just passing through on the freeway and couldn’t resist stopping for orange Tic Tacs. Her tone softened immediately. “Try self-checkout,” she said. “I think there might be some there.”
Self-checkout was crowded too, and the employee was struggling with an order. I stepped right in, sliding into the space the previous customer had left in a huff. The attendant looked at me, rolled her eyes, and waved me forward. I told her I was on a mission for orange Tic Tacs. Without hesitation, she darted away, determined to help.
While she was gone, a mother at the next register noticed and found two boxes for me. She handed them over with a kind smile, just as the employee came rushing back, out of breath but triumphant, holding up another pack she’d hunted down somewhere in the chaos. I already had two in my hand, and she just laughed, shaking her head. I laughed too, but there was something in her tired smile that stayed with me. She had worked hard to help me, a complete stranger who had barged into her space as if I belonged there.
By the time I left the store, I had both boxes in my hand. Everyone around me was stressed, exhausted, and frustrated, and yet no one told me to wait, no one questioned my presence, no one made me feel out of place. I stepped outside, breathed in the crisp mountain air, and let my eyes sweep over the town’s quiet streets and the rugged hills beyond. There was a sense of history here, of generations who had lived and worked on this land, and the old, settled rhythm of it pressed gently against me. I was a stranger in this place, yet I moved through it freely, unquestioned. Everyone had given me space I hadn’t earned.
Driving away, it struck me how easily I had taken up space that wasn’t mine to take, certain I’d be forgiven for it. The thought made me wince. I hadn’t meant to act entitled, but I had, and the world had let me. The Tic Tacs were sweet, but they left a strange taste in my mouth, a tiny orange reminder of how easily the world made room for me, and how often it refuses to do the same for others.
