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Always Waiting, Always Here

May 31, 2022/ Analía Villagra

She’ll be dead that evening, but neither of them knows this. In her final moments, as the car flips over, she will not think of him but of her parents, of how she would give anything to spare them the pain they are about to experience. But with her final, bloody exhale, ribs pinched tight against each other, forehead pressed to the shattered windshield, she will realize she has nothing to give, no bargaining chips.

He will call the next day, too soon to appear cool, he knows, but he will still be giddy with the thought of her, the awkward hiccup of her laugh, the crinkle of her curls between his fingers. He will be smiling as he leaves the voicemail, charmed by the memory of her embarrassment when a piece of olive from her Greek salad ended up on his tongue after they kissed goodnight. Over the course of a few days his joy will fade. After a week he’ll feel a tightness in his chest while he’s in the shower and think for a horrible moment he’s going to die, naked and foamy with Irish Spring.

He won’t die.

He won’t try to date again for seven months. He will try to be reasonable and convince himself that maybe they weren’t in love after one date, but goddamn it! He knows he did not imagine the spark, knows he can’t possibly have been so wrong, so alone in this feeling.

He will get back in the dating game, but his confidence will be broken into small, jagged shards—it must have been so brittle to begin with. He will meet another woman. After years together, he will know he loves her, but the girl of the past will nibble at his ear and pluck microscopic pieces of him with her bright yellow nails. What a color! Still vivid in his memory, like shiny, plasticine egg yolks, the way he watched them drip down his chest, flick at the buttons on his button-down shirt.

He will propose to the woman. They will call their parents then make love with a tenderness uncharacteristic of their usually athletic sex life. He will not like the sensation of thinking and fucking simultaneously, the flood of emotion too much, overwhelming him. And he won’t be able to help himself. When they are done, slow shudders fading like ripples on a pond, the woman asleep in their damp sheets, he will finally look her up, the girl.

His face will be purple from the mixture of red shame and blue light from the laptop screen in the dark. Her name will pop up on an archived entry of a funeral home website—so simple, she had always been right there—and he will see the date of death and start to cry. He knows that date. Has carried that date.

The woman who will be his wife one day but at that moment is only his fiancée will wake, and he will snap the computer closed. She’ll wrap her arms around his shoulders, sweat-salty cheek to his. It’s okay, she will say, you’re okay, I’m here.

Analia Vallagra

Analía Villagra’s work has appeared in Bat City Review, New Ohio Review, The Iowa Review, and other journals. She is an Assistant Fiction Editor for Split Lip Magazine. After many years of killing houseplants in Florida, New York, and Connecticut, she now has a thriving windowsill of succulents in Oakland, CA. You can find her on Twitter @isleofanalia.

Issue Archive

  • Issue 21: Summer/Fall 2022
  • Issue 20: Winter/Spring 2022
  • Issue 19: Summer/Fall 2021
  • Issue 18: Winter/Spring 2021
  • Issue 17: Summer/Fall 2020
  • Issue 16: Winter/Spring 2020
  • Issue 15: Summer/Fall 2019
  • Issue 14: Winter/Spring 2019
  • Issue 13: Summer/Fall 2018
  • Issue 12: Winter/Spring 2018
  • Issue 11: Summer/Fall 2017
  • Issue 10: Winter/Spring 2017
  • Issue 9: Summer/Fall 2016
  • Issue 8: Winter/Spring 2016
  • Issue 7: Summer/Fall 2015
  • Issue 6: Winter/Spring 2015
  • Issue 5: Summer/Fall 2014
  • Issue 4: Winter/Spring 2014
  • Issue 3: Summer/Fall 2013
  • Issue 2: Winter/Spring 2013
  • Issue 1: Spring 2012

Genre Archive

  • Creative Nonfiction
  • Essays
  • Fiction
  • Flash Prose
  • Lunch Specials
  • Poetry
  • Interviews
  • Translation
  • Visual Art
  • Writing for Young People

Friday Lunch Blog

Friday Lunch! A serving of contemporary essays published every Friday.

Today’s course:

Where Are You From?

August 5, 2022/in Blog / Majella Pinto
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The Old Folks’ Home

July 22, 2022/in Blog / Karen Gaul Schulman
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https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/Screen-Shot-2022-07-21-at-5.55.26-PM-e1658444219873.png 1608 1756 Karen Gaul Schulman https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Karen Gaul Schulman2022-07-22 13:21:012022-07-27 10:24:10The Old Folks’ Home

Peace, Love, and a lot of Loud Rock & Roll

June 17, 2022/in A Transfer, Blog / Sunee Lyn Foley
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https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/06/0F6155F4-C1C9-45E1-BE9D-CA099003FB8E.jpeg 513 474 Sunee Lyn Foley https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Sunee Lyn Foley2022-06-17 14:31:102022-07-18 17:54:10Peace, Love, and a lot of Loud Rock & Roll

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Midnight Snack

A destination for all your late night obsessions.

Tonight’s bites:

QVC-land

May 6, 2022/in A Transfer, Midnight Snack / D. E. Hardy
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https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/05/Diana-Hardy_QVC_Feature_Photo.png 533 800 D. E. Hardy https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png D. E. Hardy2022-05-06 23:45:322022-07-18 17:54:56QVC-land

Escape Artists at the End of the World

April 29, 2022/in A Transfer, Midnight Snack / Lisa Levy
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https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/waldemar-brandt-eIOPDU3Fkwk-unsplash-scaled-1.jpg 1707 2560 Lisa Levy https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Lisa Levy2022-04-29 23:49:582022-06-13 18:34:12Escape Artists at the End of the World

The House in the Middle

April 15, 2022/in A Transfer, Midnight Snack / Megan Vasquez
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https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/04/alec-douglas-iuC9fvq63J8-unsplash-scaled-1.jpg 2560 1707 Megan Vasquez https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Megan Vasquez2022-04-15 23:45:322022-04-15 23:45:32The House in the Middle

More coming soon!

Amuse-Bouche

Little bites every Monday to whet your appetite!

Today’s plate:

Defy Gravity

August 1, 2022/in Amuse-Bouche / Megan Peck
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Little Shrimp

July 25, 2022/in Amuse-Bouche / Karen Poppy
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Litdish: On Writing Form, Style and Moving Through the Moments: 7 Questions for Author Megan Giddings

July 18, 2022/in Amuse-Bouche / Interviewed by Gail Vannelli
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https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2022/07/Megan-Giddings-Headshot-scaled.jpg 2560 2311 Interviewed by Gail Vannelli https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Interviewed by Gail Vannelli2022-07-18 17:00:182022-07-18 16:48:35Litdish: On Writing Form, Style and Moving Through the Moments: 7 Questions for Author Megan Giddings

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School Lunch

An occasional Wednesday series dishing up today’s best youth writers.

Today’s slice:

I’ve Stayed in the Front Yard

May 12, 2021/in School Lunch, School Lunch 2021 / Brendan Nurczyk
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A Communal Announcement

April 28, 2021/in School Lunch, School Lunch 2021 / Isabella Dail
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https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/SL-FB-Isabella-Dail.png 788 940 Isabella Dail https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Isabella Dail2021-04-28 11:34:132021-04-28 11:34:13A Communal Announcement

Seventeen

April 14, 2021/in School Lunch, School Lunch 2021 / Abigail E. Calimaran
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https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/04/SL-Insta-Abigail-E.-Calimaran.png 1080 1080 Abigail E. Calimaran https://lunchticket.org/wp-content/uploads/2021/12/lunch-ticket-logo-white-text-only.png Abigail E. Calimaran2021-04-14 11:22:062021-04-14 11:22:06Seventeen

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Word From the Editor

The variety in this issue speaks not only to the eclectic world we inhabit but to the power of the human spirit. We live in an uncertain world. In the U.S., we’re seeing mass shootings daily. Across the world, we’re still very much in a pandemic, some being trapped in their homes for weeks on end, others struggling to stay alive in hospitals. War continues to wage in Ukraine. Iran and North Korea are working diligently to make nuclear weapons. The list goes on. Still, we have artists who are willing and able to be vulnerable with one another, to share stories and art to help us try and make sense of our world.

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