Kate Ryan

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

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

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

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.

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

Hollywood continues to flounder in a dick-sucking frenzy of self-congratulatory white male directors, writers, and producers.

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

As an Uber driver, I have the privilege of talking to and eavesdropping on a sampling of L.A.’s finest, ranging from the clinically insane to the simply self-absorbed. As a writer, there is no end to the amount of inspiration my passengers provide.

It was a tradition of theirs. When siblings Sue and Johnny went home to their mother’s for Christmas, they watched the 11 o’clock local news.

Alison learned from her grandmother how a plastic smile could take you places—especially in a place like Hollywood.