Dear Lucifer: Reboot

Yesterday, I announced that my short story collection No Way Home has a brand new cover.

While to all outwards appearances Dear Lucifer and Other Stories still looks the same, it has gone through somewhat of a transformation under the hood.

The book has been updated to very much a new version, with not only an entirely new layout to bring it into line with all my other publications but also a completely revamped story order. The same book, but new and improved, and a much nicer read.

To celebrate, I thought I would offer you an extract, a piece towards the end of the of the collection I wrote while riding the Tube in London after a night out with friends.

On my way home

On the tube, she, glowing with a drunken sheen, gazed at him and flushed.
She stepped forward to be with him but recoiled as her hair was thrown awry by the dusty metallic breeze blowing hard through the open window between the carriages.
– Come here, she mouthed pleadingly.
He shook his head, folded his arms and stared at the other passengers. His cufflinks glinted in the neon light.
His small beard was untidy. He was also drunk. Undone. Ragged.
She smoothed her black dress repeatedly.
I looked away, and caught the eye of another couple sitting opposite and wondered about their life. Were they rich? Were they heading back to a town villa with bare floorboards and expensive wine? Her dress was vintage crêpe de Chine, his suit was well cut and expensive. They talked in hushed tones, smiling occasionally, conspiratorially. There was a line of grey in her hair that disappeared as she self-consciously pushed it back into her dark curls.
I turned back to the drunk couple. He smiled at her and crossed the divide. They embraced and kissed.
He had lost his point but, then, I think he always knew he would.