I met him outside Whelan’s on a wet Thursday night, the kind of Dublin rain that doesn’t fall so much as hang in the air and slowly claim you. I was waiting…
I met him on a wet Thursday outside Whelan’s, both of us pretending we were not waiting for someone who had already gone home. He had just come out of a three-year…
I was thirty-eight when I learned how quietly a life can split in two. It did not happen with shouting or slammed doors. It happened on a wet Tuesday outside a café…
I met Niamh on a wet Thursday evening outside George’s Street Arcade, when both of us were pretending we hadn’t forgotten our umbrellas. She laughed first, which I liked, because I was…
I told everyone I was going to Galway for a cousin’s birthday. That was a lie. There was no cousin, no party, no plan beyond getting on the train at Heuston with…
I started therapy in a small room off Baggot Street after a breakup that left me unable to pass certain places in Dublin without feeling like the city had turned witness against…
I used to tell people I met him by accident, but that makes it sound as if Dublin had nothing to do with it. The truth is, Dublin arranged the whole thing.…
I met her outside Croke Park on a wet Sunday in September, the kind of Dublin rain that doesn’t fall so much as settle on you and decide to stay. I was…
I never thought of myself as the kind of woman who would read her husband’s messages. I used to judge people who did. I’d say trust is trust, and once you go…
People used to say they wanted what we had. They said it at weddings, at house parties in Rathmines, over pints after work, always with that same little sigh, as if myself…