Kate Ryan

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.

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

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

Fresh orange juice, milk, thick slices of ham, a block of cheese, a carton of eggs—her husband kept it this way should this moment arrive.

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

12:48 AM. Why would someone schedule an exorcism for the middle of a weeknight?

Writing simply does for me what long walks do for small dogs; it makes me tired and happy.

My tights are cutting me in half at the waist . . . just like a sausage in its casing.

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?

She got too high while watching The Bachelor and had a misanthropic breakdown.