I got off on the thirteenth floor. Heading toward my cubicle, I was blindsided by the judge, who took the corner like a NASCAR racer, arms outstretched. She came to a screeching halt an inch away. Arms up. Down.

“WHY DID YOU THINK THE COURTHOUSE WAS CLOSED?!!!!! WHY DID YOU EVER THINK IT WAS CLOSED???” Honesty seemed like the best policy.

“Be-be-be-cause it is?” Drats! I couldn’t even say that without a question mark. She knew she’d won. And smiled.

“Well, we have A LOT of work to do. Get in here now!” I flicked an icicle from my droopy eyelash, and followed the carny to her circus, which was in full swing by now. Toothless octogenarian running like a bull from one end of the red office to the other screaming. Very pregnant suburbanite was brave matador, trying to preserve her safety while simultaneously egging on said bull. Actually, Kate was standing over Janet’s desk. Horrified. Any lingering anger I had toward her was instantly gone. The bull had been screaming at her all morning because the rest of us hadn’t made it to work.

Kate and I exchanged knowing glances as I walked into the torture chamber. I sat down, freezing, waiting for my order. Once seated, looking like roadkill, the judge suddenly regained composure, patted her matty bun, and smiled.

“You know, we got that rehearing, Sheba.”

I’d slid my way to work, risked death and hypothermia just so the judge could tell me that Nelson’s petition to have his case heard en banc had been granted? This happened a week ago, and the judge, Matthew, and I had had an extensive conversation on the matter just before the weekend.

“Ah, yeah, Judge, it’s—”

“Haven’t I told you people a million times not to wear your coats inside. It makes me hot!” I removed my coat, no longer enjoying the circus.

“Anyway, the en banc is scheduled for May.” The judge smiled. “As Adams must sit on the case, considering she penned the majority opinion, that means that her little confirmation hearings will have to be delayed for a few months.” I nodded, just as I had when the judge told me the very same thing forty-eight hours earlier. After all, Adams’s hearings were originally supposed to take place a few weeks earlier, at the beginning of February. The delay had been international news. “So, that gives you more time to get the information we were talking about.” Something snapped.

“Judge, I’ve told you that I’ve exhausted my avenues for information on Judge Adams. I cannot in good faith ask my friends and colleagues to fabricate bad things about Judge Adams just for your pleasure.” I stopped. She was silent. I braced myself.

Her neck tightened and her matty bun quivered. “Wasn’t that a powerful soliloquy, Sheila. Maybe if you reserved such passion for your work, your memos wouldn’t be rilly rilly bad.”