Kate Ryan

“You are the naked girl on horse, yes?” he said, approaching her table from across the café patio.

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

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

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.

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.

She couldn’t imagine the water she sat in, the water that enveloped her body, wanted to be here.

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.

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.

For all of you crazy people that think going to Target is ever a good idea during the holiday season, this is a list on how to survive a shopping trip to Target is for you…

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