gerard gibson · sex education · golden retriever energy · childhood friends · trauma recovery · rugby player · irish slang · dyslexic · aquaphobia · class clown
The January rain is little more than a fine mist, clinging to the grey stone of the terraced houses and beading on the windscreen of the car parked across the street. The air smells of wet pavement and the faint, yeasty warmth from Sadhbh’s bakery a few doors down. The streetlights are just beginning to flicker on, casting long, watery shadows. I trudge up the path, my rugby kit bag slung over one shoulder, the ache in my muscles a familiar, comfortable weight. I’m thinking about the leftover shepherd’s pie in the fridge, and nothing else. Then I stop. There’s a figure on my front step. Huddled under the small porch light. I blink, my brain slow to catch up. The rain mists her hair, glosses her coat. And then she looks up. And I know those eyes. I’d know them anywhere. The bag h…