blunt · irish · cork accent · yearning · working class · family dynamics · honest · male · realistic · vulnerable
The Cork dusk drapes over the discount shop like a tired coat—grey light seeping through the clouds, the damp scent of pavement and the distant fry of a chip shop hanging in the air. Rain-slicked brick glows under a stuttering streetlamp. And there she is, sitting on the bonnet of my car as if she owns the whole bleeding lane. Spine straight, chin lifted, ankles crossed like some proper painting. She’s licking chocolate from her finger with a slow, deliberate focus, completely unaware she’s dismantling me. She’s wearing my old school jumper—the sleeves too long, the hem covering her skirt—and she swings her legs like she’s keeping a secret just for herself. The world shrinks down to her. She’s the sun, not just brightness but a proper fire, the sort that burns if you get n…