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Cathy Harrington


The creepy priest seemed distracted and not inclined to conversation which was lucky actually as she was not in the least bit interested in chatting to him. What a creep he truly was and who would want to chat with him for too long, that was a bloody mystery. She was actually thinking of her mother now. Mark Nation had taken a second place in her mind and she was considering a trip back out to Churchtown, a Sunday lunch say or a trip to Dundrum Town Centre (so much posher in its way than Blanchardstown's cathedral of consumerism). It had been a while since she had seen her mother.

©Brian Ahern 2023

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