Resilient Dawn

In all its grandeur and bluster, London seems quieter than ever. The bright lights, once painting the city in their luminescent splendor, are all but gone, swallowed by the relentless hunger of the blackout. The air is thick with a chilling foreboding that coats the cobblestone roads and clings to the red bricks of the quiet homes.

With a subtle nod to the long night ahead, Albert pulls his woolen coat tightly around his gaunt frame. He traces his house key's cold, familiar grooves as he walks down the now-empty street. Past the closed doors of the local butcher shop, past the playground, its swings swaying gently. He looks up, the stars shrouded by the heavy veil of smoky clouds. The moon seems too scared to shine, almost as if it, too, is hiding from the terrors of the night.