I used to believe love only became real when other people could see it. A photograph on Grafton Street, a hand held across a pub table, a caption with a joke only…

I met him in a queue, which feels like a very Dublin way to begin anything important. It was outside Bewley’s on Grafton Street, one of those wet December afternoons when the…

I met Niamh on a wet Thursday outside Connolly Station, both of us pretending the rain was manageable. I had one broken umbrella and she had none at all. She was laughing…

I met him because of rain, which is a very Dublin thing to say and also the plain truth. I was standing outside Pearse Station after a late shift, pretending my light…

I met Eoin because I was pretending to be braver than I was. It was a wet Thursday evening in Dublin, the kind where the rain doesn’t fall so much as hover…

I was thirty-four when I met Conor, and old enough to know the difference between loneliness and love, though I still confused them some evenings. We met outside The Cobblestone in Smithfield,…