The Waiting Room is a literary journal that breaks the chokehold that keeps us captive. It walks arrogantly, whispers insecurely, and breathes hopelessly. The Waiting Room captures our most ugly and most beautiful.
 
Stuck in line waiting for the clerk to call the number too close to infinity, they’re serving #2. Flight delayed and uncomfortably forced to make use of a seat that a stranger's elbow keeps conquering like a child. Keeping the stool hot and hand holding onto the stagnancy that drifts into thoughts and consumes. In the emergency section of the hospital bleeding out and still waiting. Waiting for the number to be called. Waiting with thoughts like leaves walked over in a rush to get back into what's comfortable. Thoughts that often go unrecorded, they are more valuable than diamonds or coal to mine; lost. Thoughts that manifest but stay hidden somewhere publicly secret. Graffitied names all over the walls, and in this waiting room, all names are called.