He had been arguing with a stranger in a town Facebook group about a proposed roundabout for eleven days. At 1:40 a.m. he posted a 600-word reply with three sources and a screenshot of the county budget. By 2:10 the other man's profile returned a gray silhouette and the words content unavailable. He stood up on the bed. He said out loud, to nobody, that he was right.

For a week he checked the profile daily, then twice daily, in case it came back. He rehearsed follow-ups in the shower that he would never get to post. His wife asked at dinner who the man actually was, and he found he could not explain it in a way that survived being said aloud. He knew his handle. He never learned his name.