Reflective

It was reflective, and the moonlight danced upon the sorted mail she had just thrown upon his desk.

She bit her lip, knowing she should just go home and get a few hours sleep before work instead of standing gormlessly in his office. But it was 1am – no-one was around, and she would only be a minute. And it wasn't like he would ever know.

She picked the cane up off the shelf, interested that he had a spare one at work. Doesn't seem like him. On the other hand, she didn't know him, really. Nobody did.

It was colder than she'd imagined; the glossy finish shined in the moonlight, and she waved the cane around to see if it would throw the light around the room. It didn't.

He twirls it. She tried twisting her fingers to make the cane spin, but it fell to the ground, hitting the magic eight ball on the way. She winced as the wood hit the floor noisily and the ball rolled around the office haphazardly. I shouldn't have done that.

She picked up the ball as it rolled past her feet and put it back on the shelf, and placed the cane beside it like she'd found it before quickly exiting the office.

She'd never know that the face on the shaken magic eight ball read, "All signs point to yes".