I met her on a wet Tuesday outside St Stephen’s Green, the kind of Dublin rain that doesn’t fall so much as sit on you. I was twenty-seven, newly single, and pretending…

For years, I thought love ended with a slammed door. I imagined shouting in a hallway, a suitcase half-zipped, somebody crying outside in the rain like a scene from a film. Ours…

I found the letter on a wet Tuesday in November, the kind of Dublin afternoon when the buses sigh at the kerb and everyone looks personally betrayed by the sky. I had…

I met Cian in September, which was the worst possible month to meet someone you might love. Dublin was all gold leaves and wet pavements, the kind of weather that makes every…

I met Aoife on a wet Thursday outside Connolly Station, both of us sheltering under the same broken awning as if Dublin had arranged the introduction. She laughed when a bus sprayed…

I met Aoife on a wet Tuesday evening outside Grogans, both of us sheltering under the same narrow strip of awning like two strangers pretending not to notice the rain. She had…

I met him on a wet Thursday evening outside Dublin Castle, both of us standing under the same narrow strip of shelter like two strangers pretending not to notice each other. My…

I met Aoife on a wet Thursday outside Whelan’s, both of us pretending we were not looking for the same missing taxi. She had a blue scarf wrapped twice around her neck…

I met Cian on a wet Thursday outside the Dublin City Library, both of us standing under the same narrow strip of shelter like two strangers pretending not to be stranded. He…

From the outside, our marriage had a kind of polish on it. We had the little red-brick house in Drumcondra, the wedding photo on the mantelpiece, the matching coats we wore on…