It’s the noticing, the caring, and the commenting that’s the problem.

I shake out of my stare and realize I’m freezing cold. When I can’t find a thermostat, I stare at the fireplace in dread. Fires are cute and all, but aren’t they a lot of work?

Sure. Probably. But I’m in the middle of ardent denial that something spooky is going on, so I’m happy to distract myself with a new task.

I get the phone that isn’t mine and type how to build a fire into Google. I follow along with a video of a man in a flannel button-down who warns me about the flue, recommends his favorite kind of wood but admits that any dry wood will do, and demonstrates the best arrangement for the logs and where to stuff the wads of newspaper. Luckily, there’s a box of paper products beside my pile of wood. I check each one before balling it up, making sure I’m not burning tax documents—or worse, burning up any clues as to what’s going on. Some article titled World Goes Mad or something.

Once the fire is roaring, I sit in front of it, finally warm. Thank God for the internet.

I take a sip of the whiskey, which really is good, and set it down on the stone hearth beside me. I then go back to the browser on the phone. I type in everything I can think of.

Lana Lord Deadline

Lana Lord Wikipedia

Lana Lord Canceled

Lana Lord IMDB

Lana Lord Brilliance

Lana Lord Meg Bryan

As any search brings up millions of pages, Google has answers. But none of them are right. None of them are me.

I delete and think for a moment.

Then I type in:

Brilliance TV show

It comes right up.

Brilliance is a primetime “neo-soap” that follows the glamorous lives of several wealthy families living in Napa Valley.

Well, that’s correct.

I look at the cast list and see that Kim, who was playing the much smaller role of Velma last I checked, is now in my role.

What the hell is happening?

I google Grayson. His name comes up, and according to an article posted a few hours ago:

Real-Life Couple? Grayson and Elsa Have a Marvel-less Night Out at Musso & Frank!

It shows a picture of Grayson and his Marvel costar in one of the dark red booths of the Hollywood restaurant—the Chaplin booth, where we have so often sat together. They’re staring adoringly at each other. I know this doesn’t prove that he was cheating on me, but I still feel vindicated.

I clear the search box and instead, I type in my real name. Meg Bryan.

As used to be usual, Google says, did you mean: Meg Ryan.

No, I did not.

Where the hell am I? If I’m not even on the internet, I’m nowhere.