The Sons of Emergency Light

The first emergency light in the Galway count centre went red at twenty-three minutes past six, and every person beneath it pretended not to notice. That was how counties survived themselves: by giving danger a polite nod, making room for it beside the tea urn, and calling the whole performance community. Maeve Killeen noticed. She always noticed. Door codes, lanyard colours, the way a superintendent held his phone face down when a councillor’s wife passed, the little pause before a clerk said a name that used to be protected by old money.