Utgard-Loki's world is shrinking. Pre-series. (meme-response for lesstraveled.)
For Koko-chan's sake, he takes one of the little currant cakes from the tray she set before him and picks at the currants on it while she smiles hopefully at him, but when he turns it around, he can't tell if the number of currants left on that side is correct, or if he only remembers picking out the currants.
He puts the cake in his mouth and swallows as quickly as he can without choking. She beams and runs away to get him the wine he asked for, was it yesterday, or only a moment ago?
He can't remember, and he is beginning to suspect he has made a grievous mistake in, in -- he can't remember what he did, why, how -- only that he is perhaps not who he thinks he is; perhaps he is merely a reflection of that moment in time, a memory left behind with no capacity for new thoughts or new experiences.
The monochromatic days blend one into another in flat sameness that he cannot distinguish anymore. He can't tell by Koko-chan either, who lives from day to day with no regard for past or future -- she could be a fragment of his memory, or perhaps he is hers, because he knows he has a library, but every book he picks up is the same children's book he was reading to her before, and he can't remember having read any other book.
Koko-chan returns with a glass of wine; he drinks it; for her sake, he takes one of the little currant cakes from the tray she set before him and picks at the currants on it while she smiles hopefully at him.