Kate Ryan

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

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

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

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.

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

At Monster High, Jimmy Werewolf gets another demerit for forgetting to shave again.

Sheila applied widely and on a whim. She needed a job and she needed one fast.

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.

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

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