Our story began on a wet Thursday night outside Whelan’s, with my fringe stuck to my forehead and my pride somewhere around my ankles. I was twenty-nine, recently dumped, and pretending to…

I thought the person I would miss most was Niamh. That seemed obvious. We had lived together in a small flat off Harold’s Cross Road where the kitchen window never closed properly…

I met Aoife on a wet Thursday in Rathmines, the kind of evening where the rain doesn’t fall so much as hang in the air and make everyone look a bit defeated.…

I met her on a wet Tuesday evening in Dublin, the kind of rain that does not fall so much as hang in the air and make everyone look like they are…

I bought the ring on a wet Thursday afternoon off Grafton Street, with my lunch break running over and my hands shaking so badly the jeweller asked if I wanted a glass…

I wrote the letter on a wet Tuesday in Dublin, sitting upstairs in Bewley’s with a coffee gone cold and my coat still damp across my knees. It was the kind of…

I met Cian because I was late, which is not a romantic thing to admit, but it is true. I was running for the 46A outside St Stephen’s Green, one shoe half…