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…
I was twenty-one when I first loved Aoife, though at the time I thought I was older than that in every way that mattered. We met outside a lecture hall in Rathmines,…
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…
I met her on a Tuesday morning at the Forty Foot, which is not the kind of place I ever expected to meet anyone. I was there because my doctor had told…
I met him in Dingle when I was twenty-three and convinced my life in Dublin was only a temporary thing. I had a summer job pulling pints in a small pub off…
I grew up in a village in west Clare where people knew the sound of your car before they saw the colour of it. If you bought a new coat, someone would…
For almost a year, I thought I was being loved in the most patient way a person could be loved. He would wait outside my office near Grand Canal Dock with two…
I used to think heartbreak had to come with a clear ending. A suitcase by the door, a final argument, a text that said we were better off apart. When my three-year…
I used to think marriages ended in dramatic ways, with slammed doors, suitcases on beds, rings left beside sinks. I didn’t know they could almost end quietly, at 1.40am on a wet…
I used to think falling in love at work was something that happened to people with messy calendars and no sense of self-preservation. I was thirty-two, living in a small flat near…