"Let me tell you a secret... you will never find anything more extraordinary than a dishwasher."
Patricia opened her eyes even wider, and forced her lips into a becoming moue of bewilderment.
Hubert was startled by the whites of her eyes and faltered, wondering whether she'd had some sort of seizure, or was it just a common tic?
"Let me tell you..."
"Mmm?"
The only real noise you can make when mouing.
He slammed the door shut and straightened his back and tie and grin;
"Let’s just let it work its magic!"
Patricia saw no reason to alter the moue, so merely tilted her head appreciatively, causing Hubert to take a step backwards into a shiny twintub. Patricia prided herself on being able to deal with salespeople with absolute sincerity, and assumed she had blown him away. The dishwasher hummed. Hubert maintained the grin whilst grinding his teeth. The vibrations were of the same frequency as the dishwasher itself, creating a pleasant cacophony in his head. Hubert enjoyed cacophony. He enjoyed the rumble of waiting for a green light, of a commuting crowd, of a speeding through-train tearing the platform in two. Without letting her eyes unwiden Patricia observed his shoes, and knew from the scuff and over-buffed texture that he had never left the town, and never would. It should be obvious to us now that Hubert is desperately alone, and Patricia has perfected the simulacrum of seamless housewife.
The door of the salesroom was highly polished glass. Three people a week walked straight into it, but there had been no serious injuries in more than a month. The bell jingled.
Hubert flung open the dishwasher, enveloping Patricia in scented steam and a passionate embrace.
"Simply extraordinary…" murmured Patricia, who never faltered.