Kate Ryan

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

He died a violent death. I saw him myself, flopping between wooden blades, his head bent back strangely.

“Don’t you smash that cake in my face, or I’ll never forgive you,” she said, and she never did, not really.

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

Recently, it was announced that the Ocean’s Eleven remake will be ladies-only too. Could it be that we’ve embarked on an era in which women take center stage?

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

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.

Everywhere you look these days (on Instagram), beautiful pictures abound. From teacups overflowing with succulents to smoothie bowls arranged as art. All while a lavender-haired model casually eats ice cream in front of a stupidly gorgeous Tahitian sunset. All this endless beauty has become a bit dull.

Everyone wants to have the funny tweets because people equate them with wealth, power, and beauty. The problem is, we’re not all funny.