I was twenty-four when I met Ciarán outside a late bus stop on Dame Street, both of us half-soaked from rain and pretending we weren’t freezing. He offered me the last dry…

I used to think goodbyes were supposed to happen in airports, with bad coffee, heavy bags, and people pretending not to cry until the last possible second. I never imagined mine would…

I met her on a Friday evening when I was trying very hard to disappear. I had just been made redundant from a job I never admitted I hated, and my girlfriend…

I used to think soulmates were a thing people said when they wanted ordinary love to sound holy. I believed in timing, effort, patience, paying rent on time, remembering how someone takes…

I first saw her on a wet Tuesday morning at Pearse Station, the kind of morning where Dublin looks like it has been dipped in grey paint and left to dry badly.…

I used to think love ended with a slammed door or a dramatic confession, but mine began ending beside the smoking area of Whelan’s on a wet Thursday night, with someone else’s…

I met Ciarán two weeks before my wedding, which is a terrible sentence to write and a worse thing to have lived. It was raining so heavily that afternoon on Grafton Street…