Kate Ryan

For the record, I didn’t mean to be born so tall. I didn’t ask for bulky shoulders or a head that doesn’t fit most hats.

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

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

"No self-respecting journalist or publication would ever hire someone who employs the word 'sh--' as a title for anything."

She knows you’re not supposed to call it an “it,” but she honestly can’t tell if it’s a boy or girl or . . . undecided.

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

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

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

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.

Alma couldn’t understand why her Yelp reviews were so dismal. She didn’t advertise herself as a magician. She was a hair stylist.