In the night the sun had shifted ever closer while the Earths people slept fitfully. The whole world was on fire. Hot, like an oven. Burning the oceans and evaporating the seas. The humidity makes the air too thick to breath; your lungs fill with water at every intake of air. Bugs fall dead, their wings to damp to carry them on. The night falls but there is no cooling wave. The heat rolls off the asphalt, where melted tires simmer and release more noxious fumes into the air. There is nowhere that is safe. Desert sands are just as hot as the fires sweeping the wilderness. Cities are uninhabitable, so are most places. Everyone dies at the same rate in the blood boiling temperatures. No one is exempt from the blaze. Had humanity died long ago as she should have, then the suns expansion would have gone unseen, but she didn’t, so humanity suffered with her home. Humanity died long before the world truly ended, in a glorious burst of fire before the sun collapsed. In the very end all of mankind’s science and knowledge couldn’t stave off the end. The world was cremated unceremoniously by the dying star.
