Kate Ryan

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

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

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

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

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

One of my biggest fears is having a random stranger ask me, "how it’s going?" They might as well ask if I’d like to step into their van and get murdered.

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

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

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

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.