Shattered Glass
It was unexpected, of course. Nobody anticipates when a tragedy will occur. Woody always had an inkling the day would come eventually, though. That’s the problem with porcelain girlfriends: they’re very fragile.
It was a cold autumn day a few years after the Davis family had moved. Andy and his friend Mikey were playing with the Luxo ball in his room. His mom always told him not to play ball in the house, but it was too chilly to play outside, and they had nothing else to do. Woody and the other toys watched from a crack in the opening of the toy chest. It had been awhile since Andy had last played with them, but they still loved him regardless.
“Hey Andy, catch!” Mikey yelled, throwing the ball to his friend. Andy caught it and moved backwards a few steps, returning the ball back to Mikey. They continued on like this till Andy was backed up all the way to the door to Molly’s room.
“Move back, this one’s coming hard!” Mikey called across the hallway, hurling the ball so fast it made a whooshing noise as it soared in the air. Andy backtracked even more into Molly’s room, catching the ball - but bumping into her bedside table… the table that the Bo Peep lamp was on. She tried to grab hold of something, but the attempt was futile: she wobbled about for a few moments before crashing to the floor and shattering into a bunch of pieces.
The noise alerted Andy to the distress of the lamp, and as he looked down at the floor, at the mess that used to be his constant damsel-in-distress, tears pooled at the corners of his eyes. He knew it was silly to cry over a lamp - especially one that wasn’t his - but he had spent too much time with Bo for it to not mean anything.
Mikey moved next to Andy when he realized that he wasn’t going to be throwing the ball back any time soon. “Dude, what’s the big deal? It’s just a lamp. Your sister can get another one.”
Andy swallowed the lump in his throat and laughed. “Yeah, you’re right… hey, wanna go downstairs and ask Mom for a snack? All that throwing has made me pretty hungry.” He just wanted to get out of there, away from the mess and the shattered memories of one of his favorite childhood pastimes. He was going to be a grown-up about this, though. He was nine, and nine year-olds didn’t play with their stupid sister’s lamp! That was just weird.
After the floor had been vacated, Woody, Buzz, and Jessie ran as quickly as they could into Molly’s room. They had heard the crash, they knew what that meant. But what they were expecting was not at all what they saw.
Woody’s heart felt like it had been broken in as many pieces as Bo. He knelt beside the pile of fragments that used to be his girlfriend and broke down, dry-sobbing: he had no tears to shed over the disaster.
He heard moaning coming from the wreckage and shifted a few pieces aside to see a sliver of glass with a delicate mouth painted on it.
“Woody…” it whispered. “I love you. Please don’t leave me.”
“I won’t, Bo. I love you too,” he replied, his voice cracking. How could a simple toy be in this much pain? They didn’t have nerves, didn’t even have a brain. Nevertheless, he could hardly breathe as her own breaths were getting shorter and farther apart. And finally… nothing.
Woody felt Buzz’s hand on his shoulder and looked up at his best friend, who was holding Jessie’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Woody,” Buzz said softly, squeezing his shoulder. He didn’t know what else to do; he’d never been in a situation like this before.
“It’s - it’s okay,” Woody choked out. “It was bound to happen. She was fragile. I just - I wish I could have said goodbye while looking into her eyes…”
“Be strong, cowboy,” Jessie said, hugging him. It wouldn’t reverse what happened, but she hoped it would ease the pain.
Woody took the small piece of glass that had Bo’s beautiful mouth on it and pocketed it. He would keep it forever, no matter what happened to him. He and his friends walked slowly back to Andy’s room silently, not wanting to disturb the silence of mourning.
Upon reaching the toy chest, Buzz and Jessie told the other toys what happened to their dear friend Bo. Many offered their condolences to Woody, but they didn’t matter to him. Nothing did. Nothing would ever repair his heart except for maybe a needle, a bunch of thread, and a skilled sewer.
With the aid of Andy’s desk, Woody climbed up onto the windowsill and sat, staring out the window onto the street below. “When she loved me, everything was beautiful…” he whispered so softly that all the other toys heard was a low hiss. They knew not to bother him. He would come around eventually, and maybe someday he would learn to love a new toy - maybe one less breakable.