I met her on a wet Thursday evening in Dublin, the kind of evening where the buses sigh at every stop and everyone looks personally betrayed by the rain. I had ducked…

It happened on a wet Thursday in November, the kind of rain that makes Dublin shine and look disappointed in you. I was in Whelan’s on Wexford Street with people from work,…

I met Niamh on a wet Thursday outside the Luas stop at Smithfield, both of us standing under the same broken umbrella like two eejits pretending it was doing any good. She…

I used to think Christmas could survive anything if there was enough food on the table and enough people pretending not to notice the cracks. In our house in Phibsborough, my mam…

I met Conor on a wet Tuesday evening outside Pearse Station, both of us trapped under the same narrow shop awning while rain came down like someone had opened the sky with…

For three months after we broke up, we kept meeting as if nothing had happened. That was the strangest part. Not the breakup itself, not the crying in my box room in…