But then the sun died.

The sun grew immense in its senility, its dying throes burning the rocks that orbit near it.
It swallowed the first two of its subjects, then directed its fiery gaze on the now abandoned Earth.

The sea was not prepared. Nor was the moon, who felt the brilliance of the red giant, making him shine brighter than he ever had before.

Its effect on the sea, however, was far less poetic. The heat becoming unbearable, the sea began to fade, just like her children. She became scarcer and scarcer, until only a puddle of her once immense self was left.

“Don’t leave me,” the moon said.
“I’m sorry,” was all the sea could say.

Soon, the sun died down into a small white speck.
And the moon was left alone.
Forever.