Kate Ryan

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

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

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

Is flagging potentially offensive material taking the PC movement too far?

Writing simply does for me what long walks do for small dogs; it makes me tired and happy.

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.

She gropes for attention while he dies in the other room.

I saw my old babysitter at a women’s wrestling cage match.

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.

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