We never meant to become known as the couple with the old dogs. At the start, it was only meant to be one quiet foster, something gentle after the house had gone…
We met on a wet Thursday outside Whelan’s, both of us pretending we were grand with the rain while standing under the same useless awning. I had come from a late shift…
I met Aoife in the smoking area of The Long Hall on a wet Thursday when neither of us smoked. She was waiting for her sister, I was pretending I didn’t mind…
I met Aoife on a wet Thursday evening outside Whelan’s, both of us pretending we were waiting for friends and not sheltering from the same hard Dublin rain. She offered me half…
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 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…
I found the letter on a Tuesday morning, beside the kettle, held down by the sugar bowl we bought in a charity shop on Camden Street. It was raining in that soft…
I used to think a marriage ended in a solicitor’s office, with signatures and a woman in a grey suit sliding tissues across the table. Ours ended on a wet Tuesday evening…
I was fifty-one the morning I saw her again, standing under the clock in Connolly Station with a small red suitcase and the same careful way of holding herself, as if the…
I came to Dublin with a ring on my finger and left with it wrapped in a receipt from a chemist on Westmoreland Street. It sounds dramatic now, like the sort of…