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.

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.

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.

She closed in on the open pores enlarged ten times their normal size by a high magnification pocket mirror.

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

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.

The case of beer I brought, as my mother explained, is “pure poison” and so I must drink it all by myself.

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.

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