I knew something was wrong on the second morning of our holiday, standing outside a small café in Dingle with rain coming sideways off the harbour and my boyfriend asking me why…

I met Cian on a wet Thursday outside Whelan’s, both of us sheltering under the same useless awning while the rain came sideways across Wexford Street. He was carrying a guitar with…

It started because of a hotel room and a lie that was easier to keep than correct. Niamh and I had been friends since college, the kind who could sit in silence…

I bought the ring on a wet Thursday in December, the kind of Dublin rain that seems to come at you sideways and personally. I had finished work early near Grafton Street,…

I used to write in a small black journal on the 15B bus from Rathmines into town. Nothing important, I told myself. Shopping lists, odd dreams, sentences I overheard outside pubs, complaints…

I met him on a wet Thursday evening outside the Dublin Writers Museum, both of us pretending the rain wasn’t getting to us. He had a broken umbrella and a calm, distracted…