Tower Bridge and the sea picture prompt

The change had been gradual. Heat building, day by day, month by month. The scorched earth cracked, swallowing London one, two, three buildings at a time. The occupants of the office blocks, wine bars, theatres, museums, and mews dwellings fled long ago. So long ago that these days you could drive the 188 kilometres of the M25 in two hours – assuming you had fuel of some sort.

Some perverse mood made him stay, camped in his office. After all, he’d spent more time here over the years than in ...