I decided I hated Conor within twelve minutes of meeting him. He was standing in the hallway of our shared house in Phibsborough, barefoot, eating toast over the sink because, as he…
I met him on a wet Thursday outside Whelan’s, when the queue was pressed tight under the awning and everyone was pretending the rain was romantic. He had no umbrella, only a…
I met Aoife on a wet Thursday evening outside Whelan’s, both of us pretending we were waiting for friends and not sheltering from the same hard Dublin rain. She offered me half…
I was twenty-seven when I realised I had built an entire life in Dublin that my parents only knew in edited pieces. They knew about my job near Grand Canal Dock, the…
I met Aoife because her brother had one digit wrong in his phone. That is the least romantic sentence I know, but it is the truth. I was standing outside Tara Street…
Niamh and I met when I was twenty-three, outside a pub in Temple Bar, both of us pretending we had only stepped out for air. I was all noise then. I wore…
I met him again because of a broken umbrella. That is the ordinary truth of it. I was outside St Stephen’s Green on a wet Thursday evening, trying to force the spokes…
I met her on a wet Tuesday outside Connolly Station, both of us pretending not to be bothered by the rain. She had a paper bag of chips from somewhere near Amiens…
I met Aoife on a wet Thursday evening outside the Abbey Theatre, both of us pretending we were too grown up to be bothered by the rain. She had no umbrella. I…