I met her on a wet Tuesday outside Pearse Station, the kind of Dublin rain that doesn’t fall so much as hang in the air and make everybody look slightly defeated. I…
I knew it was over before either of us said the word. We were sitting by the window in a small café off Camden Street, the kind of place where the tables…
I met Cian on a wet Thursday outside Whelan’s, both of us sheltering under the same useless awning while the rain came sideways across Wexford Street. He was carrying a guitar with…
It started because of a hotel room and a lie that was easier to keep than correct. Niamh and I had been friends since college, the kind who could sit in silence…
I knew it was over on a Thursday evening in Dublin, though I didn’t say it out loud until Sunday. He was sitting across from me in Grogan’s, turning his pint slowly…
I bought the ring on a wet Thursday in December, the kind of Dublin rain that seems to come at you sideways and personally. I had finished work early near Grafton Street,…
I used to write in a small black journal on the 15B bus from Rathmines into town. Nothing important, I told myself. Shopping lists, odd dreams, sentences I overheard outside pubs, complaints…
I met him on a wet Thursday evening outside the Dublin Writers Museum, both of us pretending the rain wasn’t getting to us. He had a broken umbrella and a calm, distracted…
I met Niall in a queue outside a small gig near Wexford Street, both of us pretending not to be freezing. He had a navy scarf wrapped twice around his neck and…
I used to think love was what happened in the gaps between ordinary things. His hand finding mine on the walk home from Camden Street. Two coffees balanced badly on the Luas.…