Kate Ryan

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.

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

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.

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

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.

Someone would always cook in their tighty whities, his package at eye level for the person doing French homework at the kitchen table.

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

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

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

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