{"componentChunkName":"component---src-templates-post-js","path":"/10-13-26","result":{"data":{"contentfulPost":{"title":"Let’s Keep it Online","body":{"json":{"nodeType":"document","data":{},"content":[{"nodeType":"paragraph","data":{},"content":[{"nodeType":"text","value":"When “Chris, 35, commercial pilot, big into CrossFit and full-bodied Malbecs” reaches out, \nyou’re intrigued, the two of you going back and forth within the app, exchanging longer and\nlonger messages before switching to Gmail, and it’s all you can focus on, during meetings at\nwork, people droning on about maximizing outputs and throughputs, your eyes trained on your\nphone with every vibration, and soon after you switch to text, long ones, short ones, photos of\nwhat’s around you, around him, of you, of him, and then it’s onto Snapchat, and it’s one, never-\nending conversation, adrenalin pulsing through you with every exchange, and by now you know\nhow his ex slept with her dermatologist, how he likes to get even his golf shirts dry cleaned, how\nhis sister takes edibles and follows jam bands as though she’s still seventeen, and it’s all building\nand building to the point where he suggests getting together “IRL”, asking you out for Nepalese\nfood that weekend, and you hesitate, but agree, and when Saturday afternoon rolls around, you’re\ndue to meet him in 90, 60, then 45 minutes, and you still haven’t showered, when ding, a new\nnotification from the app, which you slide open, see the heart on your profile from “Jacob, 37,\nsculptor by trade, passionate about summiting peaks, makes a mean curry” who’s sent you a\nmessage asking how you’re still single, followed by an angel emoji, the green dot next to his\nname meaning he’s online, so you respond to his message, then him to yours, and as the time for\nyour date comes and goes, you having silenced notifications from bewildered Chris, the light\noutside your apartment window slowly fades, you lost in your back and forth with Jacob ‘til you\n\\Lfall asleep smiling, phone cradled against your chest.","marks":[],"data":{}}]}]}},"author":"Amy Allen","type":"10-13-26","justifyText":true,"width":80,"nextTitleAndAuthor":"\"Keep This Machine Running\" by Nick Porisch","nextSlug":"/10-6-26","bio":{"json":{"data":{},"content":[{"data":{},"content":[{"data":{},"marks":[],"value":"Amy Allen writes in Shelburne, Vermont, where she serves as the town's Poet Laureate. Her work has appeared in numerous literary journals and includes a story selected for Best Microfiction 2026. It has also been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. She is the author of the poetry chapbook Mountain Offerings. When she's not writing, you can find her outside, looking for stories.\n","nodeType":"text"}],"nodeType":"paragraph"}],"nodeType":"document"}}}},"pageContext":{"slug":"/10-13-26"}}}