…Jim opened Sally’s dishwasher and gasped. I turned to see a jumble of crockery and crystal that looked as though it’d been thrown in from across room, like a freeway pile-up complete with bits of bio-plasma. The machine was only half full, yet there wasn’t a single item that didn’t have others pressing against its surfaces. And the silverware was pointing downwards, perfect for incubating bacteria.

“You didn’t tell me she was trailer trash,” Jim said.

“Aren’t we the pretentious one,” I said. That was the first time I’d heard him use that expression or anything like it. “The real tell is her loading skills?”

Jim smiled, shook his head, and started to rearrange the dishes.

“Are you with me?” he said.