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About Dundalk

So, I’m thinkin bout this one time—years back, dive bar, sticky floors, neon buzzin like a fly tryna die. This chick, she’s workin the room, all hips and sly grins. Reminds me of Celine, ya know? That flick where they talk n walk, spillin guts without touchin. “Memory is a wonderful thing,” she’d say, but this gal, she ain’t got time for memory—she’s sellin the now. I’m watchin, sippin my bourbon, and she locks eyes. Boom. Heart kicks like a damn mule. I’m hooked, Clarice, hooked like a fish on a line.

Nobody is coming soon

Finally, I gather my dignity and my strawberries. I head over to the pub on the corner of the square. You know the one, with the green door? I need a pint after that fiasco. I sit down, and the bartender, a guy named Sean, gives me a nod. He knows my face. I order a pint of Guinness, and it’s like heaven in a glass.

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