The morning she left, Dublin was doing that thing where it can’t decide if it wants to rain or forgive you. The paths outside my flat in Phibsborough were wet, but the…
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…
I met Niamh on a wet Thursday outside Dublin Castle, both of us standing under the same useless awning, pretending the rain was about to stop. She was laughing at the sky…
I met Daniel on a wet Tuesday evening outside Connolly Station, both of us standing under the same broken bit of shelter, pretending our coats were more waterproof than they were. I…
I used to think love was a room with one door. You walked in, closed it behind you, and whatever life you had before stayed outside. Then, at thirty-four, I found myself…
I met him outside Whelan’s on a wet Thursday night, the kind of Dublin rain that doesn’t fall so much as hang in the air and slowly claim you. I was waiting…
I was thirty-eight when I learned how quietly a life can split in two. It did not happen with shouting or slammed doors. It happened on a wet Tuesday outside a café…
I met Niamh on a wet Thursday evening outside George’s Street Arcade, when both of us were pretending we hadn’t forgotten our umbrellas. She laughed first, which I liked, because I was…
I told everyone I was going to Galway for a cousin’s birthday. That was a lie. There was no cousin, no party, no plan beyond getting on the train at Heuston with…
I started therapy in a small room off Baggot Street after a breakup that left me unable to pass certain places in Dublin without feeling like the city had turned witness against…