Hot mix pickles

In the pickle aisle, there's a jar labeled Hot Mix Pickles. Through the glass you can see cauliflower, banana peppers, and slices of cucumber, green tomato, and carrot, all floating in brine.

On some weekends, my father would load me and my brother into the car and we'd drive to the grocers to pick up Hot Mix Pickles, as a snack. We'd all be in the aisle, and my salivary glands would be filling my mouth. I'd have to swallow more often to make sure it didn't dribble out onto my shirt. Staring at that bottle, I'd get stabbing pains right beneath my jaw, where it meets my throat. Relief only came when we got home and, forks in hand, we'd dig in.

At the grocers, walking through the aisle now, my mouth still fills up with saliva. But I walk right by the jar, never adding it to my basket.