Elian's dad is going to be on 60 Minutes. A woman I work with thinks he's a hottie.

It's morning in the Gilded Gym. The dappled sunlight is winking off the lap pool and the workout machines wait expectantly. Bluebirds form a line at the Stairmaster. Dr. M. and A.G. are in bed, holding each other, sleeping peacefully. Just kidding. Dr. M. is reading the paper, about another location where books have been erased. Where is it? A.G.'s former home. He wants to get a look inside; does A.G. want to come? A.G. leaps out of bed in a flash.

The phone rings; Lisa answers. She apologizes to her neighbor about all the reporters standing around on the lawn; Roger had called the media and the police to see if they could do anything about the incredible disappearing print. Roger looks baleful, Heather hateful. Bling-blong! It's Dr. M. and A.G. at the door! What a surprise! "The government asked me to drop by. Mind if I come in and have a look?" Super casual. Lisa leads A.G. upstairs, explaining that the pictures and paintings on the walls haven't been affected, just books and their letters. Heather asks Dr. M., "What does the government think about all this? Maybe someone is telling us we don't read enough." Gee, YA THINK? "It really creeps. Me. Out! I'm waiting for the walls to drip blood." That would be interesting. Dr. M., in full Scully/denial mode, says stupidly, "There's a scientific explanation for everything." Sure there is, Dr. Scully. Now I know CBS is out of it -- they don't even watch The X-Files.

Lisa is standing in her bedroom with A.G. She's yammering on: "My husband loved to read...." A.G. says, "I know." Whoops! Busted! He stammers, "Grisham, right?" Ooh, nice save. Lisa picks up her precious love letters and says, "It's spread to these. They used to be letters. Now they're blank." A.G. takes them from her and, even though his expression is as totally blank and vacant as the pages he holds, I can guess he's supposed to be feeling some kind of melancholy at the sight of these stupid love letters his wife/widow still reads and treasures. Too bad he can't act and SHOW US this. He sniffs a bit and Lisa says, "Do you think they'll come back?" A.G., spacing out, says, "Excuse me?" Oh, you oaf. They stand less than a foot away from each other, and though Margaret Colin is throwing out sparks like a buzz saw on sheet metal, all A.G. can do is stand there and stare at her. He says, "No matter what, you will always remember them." The electricity half-crackles between them, sort of, and they look into each other's eyes.