Kate Ryan

Motherhood is easily the toughest, most sacred job on earth. Without moms, the human race simply wouldn’t be here. But personally, I’d rather dangle myself from dental floss over a volcano full of spiders than push another human being out of my body.

She closed in on the open pores enlarged ten times their normal size by a high magnification pocket mirror.

Is flagging potentially offensive material taking the PC movement too far?

Alma couldn’t understand why her Yelp reviews were so dismal. She didn’t advertise herself as a magician. She was a hair stylist.

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

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.

One crawled up the side of the bag and opened her wings, a hardtop convertible with legs.

Someone would always cook in their tighty whities, his package at eye level for the person doing French homework at the kitchen table.

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.

For the record, I didn’t mean to be born so tall. I didn’t ask for bulky shoulders or a head that doesn’t fit most hats.