The small room was lit mostly by the midday sun shining through the windows, but there was a small lamp that hung above the circle of chairs, like in those police procedurals where the officer shines a light in the suspect’s eyes. At least, that’s how it felt to Trixie as she waited for her turn in the stupid exercise which she had been mandated by a court of law to attend. They always asked the same question, and she always had the same answer.

“Would you like to speak next, Silver Streak?” said the old stallion with droopy eyes and an even droopier expression. He gestured to the pony a few seats away from Trixie.

Silver Streak nodded slowly. He took a long inhale, then let it out in a sigh. “Yeah, I’ll go. I…” he closed his eyes, his face tightening. “I done some bad things in my time, but I ain’t never regretted nothing until… until…”

He hung his head, weeping suddenly. His wails filled the room. The pony next to him patted him awkwardly on the shoulder as he continued to cry like a newborn foal.

“Crying is a good sign,” said the droopy stallion in a tone that suggested crying was the last thing he wanted to hear. “It means you feel regret, and regret is exactly what we’re looking for here.”

Silver Streak shook his head, wiping the tears from his eyes, though they continued to flow. “I swear I never seen ‘er there. I swear I never woulda done that if I’d known… if I’d known that she… I’m so sorry, lady. I ain’t mean to hurt you or your baby. I’m so so sorry…”

The pony next to him kept patting on his shoulder as he turned to his other side and wept on a second pony’s shoulder.

Trixie rolled her eyes.

“Good, good,” said the droopy stallion with a bored voice. “Stargleam?”

The mare next to Trixie nodded. “I regret a lot of things, doc, but the thing I regret the most is the storm. I knew…” she sighed, “I knew I couldn’t handle it. I knew I should have told my boss as much, but it was close to performance review time, and I knew if I impressed him I’d get that raise I always wanted.” A single tear rolled down her cheek. “All those ponies… all for a stupid storm. I should have told him. I should have told him…”

The droopy stallion nodded. Next he turned to Trixie. His eyebrows rose.

“Trixie, do you have anything you’d like to talk about?”

Trixie shrugged. “No. I’m good.”

The stallion sighed. “Are you sure you don’t have any regrets? Anything you’d like to share?”

“Why should I?” Trixie chuckled quietly. “I’m fuckin' Trixie. I regret nothing.”

“You say that every time, Trixie,” said the stallion with a heavy sigh. “Frankly, I think you’re hiding some insecurity. After all, it’s not possible to have no regrets. Trixie, I have something I’d like you to try.” He produced a small orb from an inner pocket on his jacket. “This orb can tell me if you’re being truthful or not.” He tossed the orb to Trixie, and she caught it with her magic.

“Sure,” said Trixie nonchalantly, “whatever.” She held the orb up, and then spoke to it, saying, “I have no regrets. I’m the best there’s ever been.”

The orb was silent for a long time. It floated there motionless. Then, after an uncomfortable silence, it finally spoke. “Huh… she’s telling the truth.”

The room was even more uncomfortable after the orb had spoken than before, but Trixie just shrugged. “I told you. Can I go now?”

The droopy stallion gave a droopy sigh. “Dammit… here,” he said, pulling some papers off his desk and shoving them in Trixie’s face. “Sign these and then you can go.”

Snatching the papers out of the air, Trixie’s horn lit up and she signed her name in magic, with a cute little star where the i’s were. Smirking, she handed the papers back and tossed the orb in the air, bouncing it on her shoulder. Reaching the door, she threw it open and trotted jauntily out of the room, into the hallway.

As she left, the sound of her singing to herself could be heard echoing down the halls:

“You better believe, I got tricks up my sleeve…”