The nearly silent messages continued to bombard Martin's subconscious throughout the day. Repeating without interruption no matter what he did, of how loudly other sound impinged on his conscious mind.
Rather than continue an obviously fruitless job search, he immersed himself in vacuuming, polishing the kitchen's tile floor till it reflected like a well made mirror, then making the kitchen appliances shine with equal brilliance. Finished, he got a actual thrill of pleasure from surveying his work, it as so good, looking at a perfectly cleaned kitchen that Martin did nothing but admire his handiwork for twenty minutes after he had finished.
Alarms sounded in his besieged psyche, but far too late. The enemy was no longer at the gate but insinuated into the very fabric of his mind. Uncomfortable with the pangs of doubt attempting to surface, he pushed them away and buried himself in the much more satisfying pastime of dusting and polishing the living room woodwork, the the dining room furniture after that.