For years, Tuesday evenings were the quietest part of our marriage. My wife, Aoife, would go to yoga in Ranelagh after work, and I would come home to our flat near Portobello,…

The last text I sent her was not angry. That surprised me most. After two years of loving someone in a way that made my hands shake, I thought the ending would…

I met him on a wet Thursday evening outside Whelan’s, the kind of rain that makes everyone in Dublin look like they are running late for something more important. I had gone…

I knew I shouldn’t have gone the minute I saw my name on the seating plan, written in gold ink beside his cousin’s and two empty chairs for people who had dropped…

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

I met him on a Thursday night in Dublin, which already made it feel like the sort of thing that should not have mattered. Thursdays are for quick pints, last Luases, and…

I used to tell people we were “just intense.” That was the word I chose because it sounded romantic and grown-up, the kind of thing you might say about a couple who…

I met Aoife on a Tuesday evening in Dublin, the kind of evening where the rain hangs in the air without ever properly falling. We were both sheltering under the same narrow…