Kate Ryan

Surviving the Apocalypse didn’t mean they couldn’t enjoy a little romance.

It was a tradition of theirs. When siblings Sue and Johnny went home to their mother’s for Christmas, they watched the 11 o’clock local news.

He died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.

My parents got the idea they’d send me to stay at my grandparents’ house in Florida for a week. I think my mother needed a week to herself.

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

Fresh orange juice, milk, thick slices of ham, a block of cheese, a carton of eggs—her husband kept it this way should this moment arrive.

I saw my old babysitter at a women’s wrestling cage match.

Okay, so maybe she didn’t really understand feminism.

Recently, it was announced that the Ocean’s Eleven remake will be ladies-only too. Could it be that we’ve embarked on an era in which women take center stage?

A bloated mother in her polka dot one-piece gnaws on a corndog while reading the romantic pulp she picked up on her way out of the supermarket . . .