George lies on his couch in the dark in his clothes, alone, not drilling anything.
Maggie sits in her parked car, alone. Would the engine not start? I suppose, under the circumstances, it would have been awkward for her to have asked Nate for a jump.
Nate lies in bed alone without his first love, his wife, his stepsister, or a shirt.
Claire sits in her chair wet-haired and wrapped in a towel, slumped limply as if she was dropped there from a great height.
We don't see David lying alone on the sofa, or Keith lying alone in their bed. That's probably because they're doing that thing when they have make-up sex without actually making up.
Ruth starts singing the counterpoint in what turns out to be a wavery soprano. So that's another way she's different from Claire. Fade to white.
Next morning, Fisher kitchen. Sarah's already sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee, looking depressed and hung-over for the second morning in a row. Poor Claire only has one set of business clothes, looks like, because she's wearing the same outfit she wore yesterday. The only people I know who wear the same clothes every day are cartoons. She gets herself some coffee, joins her aunt at the table, and shuffles through the mail. Claire excitedly sees the envelope from the grant commission, and rips it open. Sarah compliments Claire's look as she unfolds her letter. "Sexy, like a business lady," Sarah says. And that's the last good news Claire's going to get in this scene, because she got turned down for the grant. "Those dicks. Let me see that," Sarah snaps. She looks at the letter and then tosses it back, saying, "Oh, well. There'll be another one." Claire buries her face in her hands at the prospect of her escape from her pantyhose being postponed indefinitely. Don't worry, Claire; I'm sure Sarah will say something incredibly supportive now. "Maybe you're not an artist," Sarah says. Okay, I was wrong. Claire acts pissed and hurt. "Did it hurt your feelings when I said it?" Sarah asks. When Claire huffs that it did, Sarah says that maybe that means she's right: "Maybe if you were an artist, you'd have laughed when I said that. Like if you told me I was purple, I would laugh because I know I'm not purple." Yeah, and maybe if Claire told you you were a murderer three days ago, you would have laughed at that, too. Don't read too much into a reaction that comes immediately after the person gets some discouraging news, is all I'm saying. Claire: "You're the one that took me by my shoulders and looked me in my eyes and told me that I was an artist." As Claire gets up to storm off, Sarah calmly says she doesn't actually know one way or the other. "Nobody can tell anyone what to do. Least of all me. That's the good news." Okay, so I was wrong. There was more good news for Claire after all. Also, Sarah? You're bringing me down. Get out of the house, you'll feel better. Go on a hike or something.