For nearly two years, I measured Dublin by where I might run into him. I avoided the corner of South William Street where we had our first stupid argument over chips. I…

I met her on a wet Thursday in Dublin, the kind of evening when the whole city seems to be shining under streetlights. I was waiting outside a café near Grafton Street,…

I met Niamh on a wet Thursday evening outside Whelan’s, where the queue was curling down Wexford Street and everyone was pretending the rain was grand. She had a blue scarf wrapped…

We made the promise outside the old screen at the IFI, with rain shining on the cobbles of Temple Bar and her mascara smudged from laughing, not crying. Or at least that’s…

Our story began on a wet Thursday night outside Whelan’s, with my fringe stuck to my forehead and my pride somewhere around my ankles. I was twenty-nine, recently dumped, and pretending to…

I thought the person I would miss most was Niamh. That seemed obvious. We had lived together in a small flat off Harold’s Cross Road where the kitchen window never closed properly…

I met Aoife on a wet Thursday in Rathmines, the kind of evening where the rain doesn’t fall so much as hang in the air and make everyone look a bit defeated.…