I met him on a wet Thursday evening outside Dublin Castle, both of us standing under the same narrow strip of shelter like two strangers pretending not to notice each other. My…
I met Aoife on a wet Thursday outside Whelan’s, both of us pretending we were not looking for the same missing taxi. She had a blue scarf wrapped twice around her neck…
I met Cian on a wet Thursday outside the Dublin City Library, both of us standing under the same narrow strip of shelter like two strangers pretending not to be stranded. He…
From the outside, our marriage had a kind of polish on it. We had the little red-brick house in Drumcondra, the wedding photo on the mantelpiece, the matching coats we wore on…
I first saw her on the upper deck of the 46A, somewhere between Stillorgan and Dublin city centre, on a wet Tuesday morning when the windows were fogged and everyone looked half-asleep.…
I used to think love was proven in the soft things. His hand on the small of my back crossing Grafton Street. The way he kept the last chip for me outside…
I met her in the kind of rain that makes Dublin look like it has been painted in watercolour. It was outside Hodges Figgis on Dawson Street, where I had stopped under…
I met Clara in a queue outside the old Screen Cinema when we were both nineteen and pretending we knew more about foreign films than we did. It was raining with that…
I came to Dublin for a woman and pretended for years that I had come for work. That was easier to say at parties. “There are more opportunities here,” I’d tell people,…
I met him on a wet Thursday outside Dublin Busáras, the kind of evening when the city looks like it has been crying before you have. I had my phone in one…