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 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…