Of course, The Leftovers knows that for most people certainty is just a kind of performance. Though Nora later said she was convinced that “the Arc” of God isn’t coming back to take more people, she very quickly assumed that it had in fact returned and snatched Kevin when she woke up in the middle of the night without him. That episode-opening scene of her anguish and terror was absolutely wrenching; it felt like a flashback to the hardest-to-watch parts of season one, but with an added layer of pathos given how much Nora has lost and how desperately she wants a new, safe life with the Garveys.

The other thing that The Leftovers realizes about uncertainty is that it’s thrilling. I adored the final moments of the episode, when Jill went onto her porch and scanned the neighborhood as the director Tom Shankland tracked her sightline. In those seconds, I had theories but no surety about what we might see—the return of Evie? Michael coming over to make good on the romantic tension between he and Jill? Zombies? Jesus? This is the kind of suspense that is rare in pop culture these days, the kind that’s only achievable by a storytelling approach that hews to no formulas. How nice that the reveal was more ordinary and more emotional than anything I could have guessed: Michael scratching off the orange sticker that testifies to his house’s lack of Departures, thereby formally de-miracularizing Miracle. Erika’s probably right—the town is about to change.

The more Kevin gets ensnared in the search efforts for the girls, the harder it’s going to be for him to survive John’s wrath when and if it becomes clear that he was at the site of their disappearance. But at least Kevin has a close ally to defend him, someone who—contra what Patti claimed—might be as committed to him as the Murphys are to each other. Like so much else in this show, the bond between Kevin and Nora crosses relatable human longings with extreme behavior; I’ll admit to feeling totally moved when the handcuffs came out as Lo Fang’s Grease cover played. What a perfectly screwed-up depiction of the desire for safety in love, and the danger of that desire. How’d that moment play for you?

Gilbert: Mostly I was thinking about the practicalities of trying to get to sleep handcuffed to another person (how do you turn over? what if you need to go to the bathroom?), but seriously, it was touching and enormously messed up at the same time. It was a literal expression of Nora’s desire to keep her new family attached to her, but also a statement of collusion—anywhere he goes, she goes too. “We’re in this together, right?” Right. Something tells me that it won’t solve the problem of Kevin’s sleepwalking, though, because this isn’t the kind of universe where the normal laws of physics apply.

So I agree with you Spencer that their relationship doesn’t seem as busted as Patti infers, and I like the idea that Patti is a manifestation of Kevin’s inner demons, but then what about the lunatic with the God beard in the town square who seemed to see her, too? “Who’s your friend?” he asked. Sure, he could have been referring to the fact that Kevin was to all extents and purposes talking to himself, but isn’t it more intriguing if Patti’s visible to more people than just Kevin?