Kate Ryan

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

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

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

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

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 . . .

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.

Everywhere you look these days (on Instagram), beautiful pictures abound. From teacups overflowing with succulents to smoothie bowls arranged as art. All while a lavender-haired model casually eats ice cream in front of a stupidly gorgeous Tahitian sunset. All this endless beauty has become a bit dull.

LAX, on the other hand, seemed like a perfect place to pick up the latest deadly virus.

Light some candles and use those bath salts you've been saving for a special occasion. Masturbate for 55 minutes.

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