You can remember the last story you told her. "Once upon a time," you began, as you had every night for eight years. But that was a long time ago, when she was innocent, when there was still joy in the world.
Now? Now, that was long gone. Now, she'll soon be leaving, and you'll be lucky to be a distant memory. You're not even certain what's going to happen to you tomorrow, let alone your fate beyond next month, next year.
Stifling a sad sigh, you continue walking to her door, as you have every day for over eighteen years. Barely noticing it's ajar, you stop abruptly when you realize there are dim voices from within.