I was thirty-four when I met Conor, and old enough to know the difference between loneliness and love, though I still confused them some evenings. We met outside The Cobblestone in Smithfield,…
The last time I saw her was at Heuston Station, standing beneath the big clock with a paper cup of tea cooling in her hands. She had always been early for trains…
I met him on a Tuesday morning outside the Capuchin Day Centre on Bow Street, when I had exactly twelve euro in my pocket and nowhere I was proud to be going.…
I used to think losing everything would make a great noise, like glass breaking or a door slamming. For me, it happened quietly. One Tuesday morning in Dublin, I put my key…
I met him on a Tuesday morning in the waiting area of the Intreo office on Parnell Street, which is not where anyone expects a love story to begin. I had a…
I met him on a wet Thursday evening outside Pearse Station, the kind of Dublin rain that doesn’t fall so much as settle on you. I had missed my Dart to Blackrock…
I met him on a Tuesday evening in a queue outside Grogan’s, both of us pretending we weren’t cold. It was one of those Dublin evenings where the rain doesn’t fall so…
I cancelled my wedding three weeks before I was meant to walk down the aisle, and for a long time people filled in the blanks with whatever story suited them. Some said…
I met her through a pane of glass in Smithfield, in the second spring of the pandemic, when Dublin had gone quiet in a way I had never heard before. I was…