Excerpt:

It was snowing by the time Regan decided to close the shop. Fat white flakes drifted down from the black sky, only settling momentarily on the flagstones before dissolving into muddy slush that was passed from one pair of trudging shoes to another. Some of the more expensively-dressed business men were walking in an uptight, pompous way that was preventing them from slipping over on the disguised grates in the pavement; the children were dancing along and laughing, pausing only to peer in shop windows and jab their fat little fingers against the cold glass; teenagers were inappropriately dressed and stood muttering and clutching at each other by the cinema wall. None of the Christmas decorations the council had put up two months too early had yet been vandalised, although one group of teenagers was eyeing up the fairy lights decorating the tree they were stood under. An off-duty police officer was stood near to them, but was more interested in keeping his cigarette alight than in what they were intending to do. The air was filled with the constant drone of mobile phones, reprimands, shouts and the music blaring from the shop fronts.