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.

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

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

Like booster engines emptied of fuel, my limbs become disposable, useless tanks as the blood rushes from them.

At Monster High, Jimmy Werewolf gets another demerit for forgetting to shave again.

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?

His mind rode the lines, circling on an endless loop to nowhere as he attempted to go about his activities.

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.

He died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.

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