There was a knock on Antonin Scalia’s office door. It was late—well past midnight—and he’d thought he was alone.
“Come in,” he said, looking up from his well-thumbed copy of The Tempting of America.
Suddenly Samuel Alito stood in the doorway. Alito’s face was flushed. His hands trembled. “Tony,” he said. “I can’t take it any more. The Constitution may not be living, but I- I am.”
DO go on