"Would you take those toys to the trash?"

A simple sentence. Eight words, heard two rooms away (they'd never bothered to measure in feet). The voice was muffled, but familiarity made it stand out. It was the voice of a young boy – man – about 18 years old. Andy Davis. He had light brown hair and warm, light eyes. He was going to study engineering in college, but when he was a kid, he'd wanted to be a cowboy.

"Would you take those toys to the trash?"

Eight words, but with those words, he erased it all. Every playtime. Every adventure, whether in space or the Wild West. Every triumph over the forces of evil. Every memory. That's all they were, after all. Memories.

"Would you take those toys to the trash?"

Of course, the signs had been there. Heck, Jessie had seen it coming as soon as they'd gotten her. Bo Peep and most of Molly's other toys had been sold years ago. As for Andy… He'd kept most of them, but the odd toy tended to vanish here and there. No one important. Just a toy clown one day, Wheezy the next… All disappearing as quickly as if picked off by a sniper. That didn't matter too much to Andy. They were just background characters, after all, and his favorites, his stars, would never suffer the same fate. At least, that's what Woody said.

"Would you take those toys to the trash?"

Woody was the leader, after all, and it wasn't just because he was Andy's favorite. He was intelligent, resourceful, and usually right. He always had a plan, and he had a way of making the toughest situation seem manageable. And he was certain about this. Andy would always love them. He'd never abandon them. And even if the toys didn't share Woody's confidence, they were sure that he could handle anything.

Now, however, Woody wasn't doing anything.

"Um, Woody?"

"Should we make a break for it, guys? Guys?"

"Woody, what should we do?"

"What's the plan?"

"What a bum! I toldya so, didn't I, Woody?"

"Woody?"

"Would you take those toys to the trash?"

The decision was soon made for them as Mrs. Davis lifted the black bag and lugged it down to the street. That got Buzz's attention, and within seconds he was out of the bag. He reached in and pulled the others out one by one, counting them. "Mr. Potatohead. Mrs. Potatohead. Martians 1,2,3. Hamm. Slinky. Rex. Buzz, where's Buzz… Hey, where's – oh, right. That's everyone except Woody. Woody?"

After a couple of shouts, the cowboy doll emerged, clambering nimbly over the folds of black plastic while carefully holding his hat to his head.

"Here! Sorry, Buzz. Couldn't hear you. So, what's the plan?"

"The box in the back of the car," Buzz replied, pointing. "It's on its way to Sunnyside Daycare Center. We can regroup there and figure out our next move."

"Good idea, Buzz." He clapped his friend on the shoulder. "We'll be back at Andy's in no time."

"Um, Woody…" But Woody was already gathering the others, herding them towards the trunk of the car.

…

It was a good fifteen minutes of silent waiting before Mrs. Davis got in the car and started it. As soon as the engine had grown loud enough to cover voices, Buzz rounded on Woody.

"What did you say?" he hissed.

"We have to get back to Andy's." Woody said it slowly, as if explaining to a child. "It'll be easy. We just need to keep track of where this daycare is and sneak back at night. We can climb the tree in the backyard and –"

"Andy?" Slinky scoffed. "He doesn't want us anymore."

"Wha- what are you saying? Who told you that?"

"He did!" Jessie snapped. "Didn't you hear him?"

"Whoa, whoa, I think you guys misheard. All I heard was Andy asking his mother to take something out to the trash. He was probably talking about that radio. Remember? The one that never worked unless you balanced a paper clip on it? He promised his mom he'd get rid of it months ago and never did." He sounded so matter-of-fact about it that they almost believed him. Almost.

"But Woody, he said 'toys!'"

"Really, cause I didn't hear – did any of you hear him say 'toys?'" Everyone nodded. "That's crazy! He said, 'Would you take those out to the trash?' There was a hole in the bag! I saw him pointing at something in his room. We were by the attic stairs. C'mon, guys! You know Andy'd never just dump us like that. Honestly!" There was no point in arguing with him, so they let the subject drop. But they all looked at one another, and it was as if each toy could read the others' thoughts. In that moment it was clear that they all knew two things for certain.

They knew that Woody would never, ever accept that his owner didn't want him anymore.

And they knew what they'd heard.