Kate Ryan

His mind rode the lines, circling on an endless loop to nowhere as he attempted to go about his activities.

"No self-respecting journalist or publication would ever hire someone who employs the word 'sh--' as a title for anything."

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 . . .

You could take this easy, informative quiz to find out with whom you side on important legislative issues and social policies. Or you could go my route and pick your candidate based on what dinosaur they resemble.

Sheila applied widely and on a whim. She needed a job and she needed one fast.

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.

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

She doesn’t know how to communicate the feeling that all is for nothing, nothing is normal.

The bread had to be store-bought and white, of course, so as not to raise a red flag among my classmates. I still see rebellion in a ham sandwich.

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