Kate Ryan

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

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

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

She gropes for attention while he dies in the other room.

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.

Eva, having stayed up the whole night preoccupied with death and time, planned to call in sick.

I would send some chocolates, but I’m not allowed anymore since they found the shiv in the birthday cake I sent you.

The Gap come autumn: where normcore and film noir cleverly collide.

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?

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