I used to think missing someone was a dramatic thing, the kind of feeling that made people stand in the rain outside train stations or write long letters they never sent. Then…

I met Cian on a wet Thursday outside the Abbey Theatre, both of us sheltering under the same useless strip of awning while the rain came down like loose change. He offered…

I met him outside Whelan’s on a wet Friday night when Camden Street was shining like someone had polished it with rain. I was twenty-eight, working in a solicitor’s office near St…

I met her in Donegal because I had run away from Dublin without admitting that was what I was doing. I told people I needed air. I told my mother I wanted…