I knew I should not go the minute the invitation landed on the mat. Thick cream card, our names written in that careful gold script people use when they are trying to…

I met him on a Tuesday evening in Dublin, which is to say I met him when neither of us was at our best. I was carrying a broken umbrella through the…

I met him on a wet Thursday in Dublin, the kind of evening when the buses sigh at the kerb and everyone looks like they have somewhere warmer to be. I was…

I met him on a wet Thursday in Smithfield, the kind of Dublin evening where the sky gives up pretending and just pours. I had gone to The Cobblestone with two friends…

I met him on a wet Thursday evening outside Kehoe’s, when Dublin had that silver look it gets after rain, all shining footpaths and taxi lights. I was trying to open an…

I used to tell people we were “just passionate.” That was the word I gave it when he shouted at me outside a pub in Rathmines because I had laughed too much…

I met Aoife on a wet Thursday outside Whelan’s, both of us pretending we weren’t too old to be queuing in the rain for a band we only half knew. She had…

I met Aoife on a wet Thursday outside St Stephen’s Green, both of us waiting for the same late bus and pretending the rain wasn’t getting in under our collars. She had…

On the morning our divorce was finalised, I wore the same navy coat I had worn to our registry office wedding twelve years earlier. It was missing a button and smelled faintly…