I grew up in a village so small that if you bought cough sweets in the shop, three people would ask your mother if you were coming down with something before you…
I met him on a wet Thursday outside The Cobblestone in Smithfield, both of us standing under the same narrow strip of shelter, pretending the rain was not coming in sideways. He…
I used to think heartbreak had to be loud. Doors closing, boxes packed, someone crying in a kitchen while the kettle boiled for no reason. When my five-year relationship with Aoife ended,…
It happened on a wet Friday in Dublin, the sort of evening when the buses hiss at the kerb and everyone in the pub looks relieved to be indoors. My husband, Mark,…
I used to think falling for someone happened in grand, obvious ways. Music swelling, rain at the right moment, some clear sign that life had turned a corner. In reality, I fell…
I met Cian on a wet Thursday outside Heuston Station, both of us pretending we weren’t completely lost. We were there for the same work conference, the kind with name badges, lukewarm…
The invitation arrived on a wet Tuesday in Portobello, the kind of rain that makes the canal look tired. I had just come home from work, shoes soaked, bag full of groceries…
I met Clara on a wet Thursday outside Whelan’s, both of us pretending we weren’t waiting for the same taxi. She had a green coat, a cigarette she never lit, and a…
I met Niamh at Electric Picnic in 2018, in the kind of rain that makes everyone look equal. Hair stuck to faces, glitter sliding down cheeks, shoes ruined beyond repair. I was…