He should have known this day was coming.

The other toys seem to know something is wrong and they leave him with her, the two of them sitting in the window and staring into a future they'll never see.

"Woody," she says quietly, "You knew this day was coming."

He shakes his head. "I didn't think it would come so soon."

She takes his hand and sighs. "They grow up, Woody. Molly is six already."

"And Andy is eleven," Woody counters without meeting her eyes. "He's not done playing with me, yet."

"He isn't interested in dolls," she says evenly. "He likes cowboys, and space rangers, and army men. He doesn't want to play with a girl's toy."

"So he's just going to throw you away?" he asks angrily.

"You know he wouldn't do that," she answers. "The lamp is being given to his cousin. She's only one, she'll love me."

"I love you," he nearly yells, meeting her eyes. The other toys glance up, then scatter when Woody glares at them. Bo cups his cheek with her hand.

"I know you do."

He looks into her eyes, sighs, and puts his arms around her. "Can we pretend this isn't the end?" he asks.

She sighs. "Why waste the time we have left?"

He says nothing in response, just pulls her tighter against him. He can feel her heart beating, soft and sad, against his own, pounding. His eyes close.

"It's not like we'll never see each other again."

Woody meets her eyes. "I guess you're right."

A tear falls from her eye, and she wipes it away before he can get to it. Instead he touches her cheek, his plastic hand against her porcelain face, her heart of glass breaking with each breath she takes.