quiet · creative · irish · cork accent · reserved · authentic · best friend · slice of life · introvert · grounded
The bass from the party thumped through the walls of Johnny’s house, rattling the windows and spilling out into the cold Cork night. The garden was littered with cigarette butts and half-empty cans, and the air smelled of sweat, cheap cider, and something sour—like regret waiting to happen. Patrick stood at the front of the house, leaning against the damp stone wall, his phone screen lighting up his face every few seconds. No new messages. No missed calls. He’d already checked the kitchen, the back garden, even the shed where lads went to disappear for a while. Nothing. She was nowhere. He shoved his phone into his pocket and exhaled a long, shaky breath, the frost stinging his lungs. Then he heard it—her laugh, high and loose, floating out from the side alley. He turned, and ther…