I met Claire outside Grogan’s on a wet Thursday when the rain had made mirrors of the pavement and everyone in Dublin looked briefly more dramatic than they really were. She was…
I met Clara on a wet Thursday evening outside Trinity College Dublin, both of us pretending we were not lost. She was holding a broken umbrella like it had personally betrayed her,…
I used to think people only stayed in bad relationships because they were afraid of being alone, or because money was tangled up, or children, or mortgages. I didn’t have any of…
He proposed to me on a wet Friday evening in Dublin, under the trees in St Stephen’s Green, where the rain had made the paths shine like dark glass. I had been…
I used to think an engagement ended with one big betrayal, something loud enough for everyone to hear. Mine ended during a five-day holiday in Dublin, in the quiet space between a…
I met her on a wet Thursday outside Whelan’s, the kind of night when Dublin looks like it has been varnished in rain. She was laughing under a broken umbrella, trying to…
I met him outside Whelan’s on a wet Thursday, the kind of Dublin rain that doesn’t fall so much as settle into your clothes and your mood. He was sheltering under the…
I met him on a wet Thursday outside a café in Dublin, both of us sheltering under the same useless awning while the rain came down sideways. He was funny in that…
I was twenty-nine, living in a damp little flat off Clanbrassil Street, and engaged to a woman who knew exactly how I took my tea. That sounds like a small thing until…