Kate Ryan

Motherhood is easily the toughest, most sacred job on earth. Without moms, the human race simply wouldn’t be here. But personally, I’d rather dangle myself from dental floss over a volcano full of spiders than push another human being out of my body.

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

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.

The birds abandon their posts in the pepper trees, sending tiny, oblong leaves raining to the ground.

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.

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

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

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

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

LAX, on the other hand, seemed like a perfect place to pick up the latest deadly virus.