In memory of Ruth Bader Ginsburg

"She's here," Peter said into the cloud shaped like a phone, "and she does NOT look happy. She is ... well, she's asking about the bylaws citing premature conclusion to long life." There was silence. "87," Peter whispered (turning his face away). "I know, but it's HER. She is ... formidable. No, I don't think she's going to back down." The soul remained seated, focused, and perfectly still. "She called it 'premature conclusion', yes," Peter continued. "So much left in progress with so much left to be done, that's right. Okay." Peter hung up and turned to face her, taking a deep breath. "Corner Office is coming down." The angels twittered, some moving in agitated circles and others flying into the white marble pillars in a dither. "Good," the soul said, her hands in her lap. She maintained direct eye contact with Peter until he became painfully self-aware and looked away. "Good," she said again, hearing an angel drop its harp.