There's a fine line between enlightenment and mental illness.
She finally had it! The evidence she needed to prove that Raoul was a robot. As Lesley sat on the floor in front of the dismantled Bissell PowerClean Rewind vacuum, her sense of satisfaction slowly melted away to the realization that she may actually be crazy. Like certifiable.
What else would drive an otherwise logical woman to even consider for a second that her chiseled upstairs neighbor was too perfect to be human because he was, in fact, not human?
It was the same obsessive thought that had also driven her to scale the fire escape, break into his apartment through the back window and find the vacuum that he used incessantly to taunt/spy on her. She had searched every last square inch of its unique Helix clean system, the bagless Easy Empty Dirt Cup and even the bristles of the combo dusting/upholstery brush for a strand of hair to send off to the lab.
But that was just it. There wasn't a hair to be found. Not one luxuriously silky raven strand off his perfectly symmetrical head. She had even crawled around his apartment on all fours, searching under and between places that only the crevice tool could reach, and also in the shower drain. All clean.
WHAT KIND OF HUMAN DOESN'T SHED? And with that, she had her answer. Every human sheds. Therefore, Raoul was not human. He was a robot.
As Lesley pushed the button that automatically rewound the cord, she wondered what she should do with this information. She decided that, for the moment, she wouldn't tell anyone what she knew.
What she didn't know, however, was that she was in the wrong apartment. In her haste to not be seen, she had slipped through the wrong window. She was actually in the apartment of Raoul's neighbor, who was both very human and very bald.
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