I bought the ring on a wet Thursday afternoon off Grafton Street, with my lunch break running over and my hands shaking so badly the jeweller asked if I wanted a glass…
I wrote the letter on a wet Tuesday in Dublin, sitting upstairs in Bewley’s with a coffee gone cold and my coat still damp across my knees. It was the kind of…
I met Cian because I was late, which is not a romantic thing to admit, but it is true. I was running for the 46A outside St Stephen’s Green, one shoe half…
I met Niamh on a wet Thursday outside Connolly Station, both of us trying to shelter under the same useless strip of awning while the rain came sideways across Amiens Street. She…
I met Ciarán on a Tuesday night in Whelan’s, which is probably the most Dublin way to begin a story I spent years pretending was unusual. My friend had dragged me there…
By the time I realised love had left us, we were still paying the electricity bill together. That’s the thing nobody tells you. Love can go quietly, without slamming a door, and…
I met Niamh on a wet Tuesday evening outside Connolly Station, both of us pretending we were fine with the rain while clearly losing the battle. She was trying to open an…
I met Daniel on a wet Thursday night outside Whelan’s, though neither of us had planned to be there. I was twenty-nine, newly single, and carrying around the kind of sadness that…