Woody walked for only a few moments before he heard some strange noises. He turned to find Forky struggling in the dirt. Woody sighed. He grabbed Forky's pipe-cleaner hand and pulled him up.

Woody continued to hold Forky's hand as they walked.

“Carry me?” Forky asked.

“No,” Woody said firmly.

“Why do I have to be a toy?” Forky whined.

“Because you have Bonnie's name written on the bottom of your sticks,” explained Woody.

“Why do I have Bonnie's name written on the bottom of my sticks?” asked Forky.

“Because she ...” Woody took a deep breath and tried to think of how to get Forky to understand. “Look, she plays with you all the time. Right?”

“Uh, yes.”

“And who does she sleep with every night?”

“The big white fluffy thing?” Forky asked.

“No, not her pillow—you.”

Forky sighed.

“All right, Forky,” said Woody. “You have to understand how lucky you are right now. You're Bonnie's toy. You are going to help her create happy memories that will last the rest of her life.”

Forky wasn't paying attention to Woody. He was busy playing with his pipe-cleaner hand.

Woody turned away, frustrated. He rubbed his forehead and tried to remain calm. “Doing this for Bonnie,” he said to himself. He took a deep breath and turned to face Forky. “Okay, like it or not, you are a toy. Maybe you don't like being one, but you are one nonetheless. Which means you are going to be there for Andy when he—”

“Who's Andy?” interrupted Forky.

“I mean Bonnie!” shouted Woody. “You have to be there for Bonnie. That is your job.”

“What's your job?” asked Forky.

“Well, right now it's to make sure you do yours,” said Woody, still sounding very frustrated.

“Carry me?” Forky asked again weakly.

Woody refused, and the two walked in silence for a bit before Forky asked Woody about Andy. Woody sighed. “Andy was my other kid,” he answered sadly.

“You had another kid?” asked Forky.

“Yeah. For a long time,” said Woody. “It was pretty great.” They walked in silence for a few minutes. “I was a favorite toy, actually,” he said with a hint of pride. “Running the room was my job. Keeping all the toys in place.” Woody continued to talk about his life with Andy and the other toys. He enjoyed sharing his memories.

To Woody's surprise, Forky was listening. And before long, Woody was carrying Forky in his arms.

“Then you watch ’em grow up, become a full person ... and then they leave,” explained Woody. “They go off and do things you'll never see. Don't get me wrong—you still feel good about it, but then somehow you find yourself after all those years, sitting in a closet, just feeling ...” His voice trailed off as he tried to find a word to describe it.

“Useless?” Forky offered.

“Yeah,” said Woody. He frowned, thinking.

“Your purpose fulfilled,” added Forky.

“Exactly,” Woody said with a nod.

Forky looked up at the cowboy. “Woody, I know what your problem is.”

“You do?”

“You're just like me. Trash!”

“What is it with you and trash?” Woody asked.

“It's warm,” said Forky with a satisfied smile.

“Ew.”

“It's cozy,” added Forky.

“I guess ...”

“And safe. Like somebody's whispering in your ear ... everything's going to be okay.”

“Forky!” exclaimed Woody. He knew how to get him to understand. “That's it! That's how Bonnie feels when she's with YOU.”

“She does?” asked Forky.

“YES!” said Woody.

“Wait a sec—” Forky jumped out of Woody's arms and faced him, his googly eyes suddenly focused. “You mean she thinks I'm warm?”

“Yep.”

“And cozy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And sometimes kind of squishy?”

“Mmmm, that, too. Yes,” Woody agreed.

Forky's entire body trembled as he continued. “Oh, Woody, I get it now. I am Bonnie's trash.”

“Yes—wait, what?”

“I am Bonnie's trash!” repeated Forky, running in circles.

“No, no, no, not exactly ...,” said Woody.

“Oh, she must be feeling awful without me,” said Forky. “Woody, we’ve got to get going. She needs me!” He sprinted ahead, shouting, “Hey, Bonnie—I'm coming!”

Woody chased after him. “Whoa, whoa, Forky. Slow down! Forky!”

As Woody tried to catch up, Forky just giggled and picked up speed, running faster and faster toward the sparkling lights of the sleeping town up ahead.

It wasn't long before Forky became tired and Woody carried him again. When they reached the edge of town, the sun had just started to creep into the sky, giving the shops along Main Street a soft glow. Even though it was still too early for most people to be awake, Woody kept an eye out for any movement. He saw a banner over the street advertising the town's Carnival Days, and a Ferris wheel above the treetops in the near distance also caught his eye. Then he saw it—the lit RV park sign. He pointed it out to Forky.

“Forky, look!” he said. “Bonnie's right over there.”

Forky gasped and jumped out of Woody's arms. “Hurry,” he called as he ran toward the sign.

Woody chuckled and started to chase after Forky. Then a pattern of familiar lights on the sidewalk outside one of the shops caught his eye. He looked up and gasped. Inside the front window of an antiques store was his old friend Bo Peep's lamp!

When Forky realized Woody wasn't behind him, he stopped. “Woody?” he said, turning to see him gaping through the window.

“Bo ...?” Woody muttered. He turned to look back at the RV park sign, thinking before approaching the front door.

“Woody?” Forky said again. “Aren't we—aren't we going to Bonnie?”

Woody peered through the glass and into the dark store. “I know, I know, but my friend might be in there.”

“But, Woody, Bonnie's right there,” said Forky, pointing to the RV park.

“Yeah, we—we'll have you back before she wakes up. Come on,” said Woody. He picked up Forky, tucked him under his arm, and climbed through the mail slot in the shop door. Hk4DNGKHcgRARnCjMbN/RHdDkKeaxB6oYj2N6y00mDA1T59aEbNMpY0gVF4MYQ2r