Kate Ryan

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.

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

Light some candles and use those bath salts you've been saving for a special occasion. Masturbate for 55 minutes.

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

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.

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.

“You are the naked girl on horse, yes?” he said, approaching her table from across the café patio.

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

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

Fresh orange juice, milk, thick slices of ham, a block of cheese, a carton of eggs—her husband kept it this way should this moment arrive.