Entirely Fictional
I used to tell people that I met him in a very romantic way, because the truth felt too ordinary. I said there had been rain on Grafton Street, a busker singing…
The Best Approach Was to Tell the Truth
I used to think the best approach to love was to make yourself easy to keep. Don’t ask too much. Don’t show the nervous parts. Laugh when you are hurt, say “no…
You Can’t Guarantee Fiction Won’t Sound Like Someone’s Life
I met Clara because of a story I made up. That sounds romantic now, but at the time it felt like being caught stealing someone’s coat. I was thirty-two, renting a small…
The Story I Thought Was Only Mine
I used to believe love stories were like fingerprints. I thought if something had happened to you in a certain way, under a certain light, with a certain person, then it belonged…
The Umbrella I Left at Tara Street
I met him because I was too proud to admit I was lost. I had moved to Dublin three weeks earlier, from a small town where every road knew my name, and…
I Almost Let a Quiet Man Leave Dublin Without Knowing I Loved Him
I met him on a wet Tuesday outside Connolly Station, both of us pretending the rain wasn’t as bad as it was. He had a paper bag from a bakery tucked under…
The Person I Loved Most Never Became Mine
I met Niamh on a wet Tuesday evening in Dublin, the kind of evening where the rain doesn’t fall so much as hang in the air and settle into your coat. We…
The Last Time I Saw Her Was at Heuston Station
The last time I saw her was at Heuston Station, standing under the big clock with a green suitcase beside her and a paper coffee going cold in her hand. It was…
We Found Love After Both Losing Everything
I met him on a wet Tuesday morning outside the Capuchin Day Centre on Bow Street, the kind of rain that doesn’t fall so much as settle into your bones. I had…
The Stranger Who Made Me Question My Marriage
I met her on a wet Thursday evening outside The Long Hall, though met is probably too generous a word for how it began. I was standing under the red glow of…