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.

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

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

I have no choice but to start all over again, tomorrow or not at all.

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

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

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

I would send some chocolates, but I’m not allowed anymore since they found the shiv in the birthday cake I sent you.

Sheila applied widely and on a whim. She needed a job and she needed one fast.

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