We rented a one-bedroom apartment in Rialto because it was the only place we could afford that didn’t smell of damp. The kitchen was barely big enough for two people to stand…

I met Niamh on a wet Tuesday outside Connolly Station, both of us sheltering under the same broken awning, both pretending we weren’t soaked through. I was carrying a guitar case I’d…

I met Cian outside The Cobblestone on a wet Thursday in Smithfield, both of us pretending we were not waiting for the same late friend. He offered me a cigarette even though…

Every Tuesday morning, I used to get off the DART at Tara Street and walk the same damp stretch toward Pearse Street, pretending I was the kind of person who had a…

I knew my marriage was over on a wet Thursday evening in Portobello, though neither of us said it. We were sitting in a small café near the canal, our coats steaming…

I met her on a wet Thursday in Dublin, the kind of evening when the city seems to shine out of the cracks in the pavement. I had missed the bus after…

I met him on a wet Thursday outside the Dublin Busáras, the kind of rain that doesn’t fall so much as sit on your shoulders and ask personal questions. I had just…