George was in a weird state of flux. When things quieted down and he had no distractions, he just sort of stood in place, staring off into the distance, reliving some of the best and the worst times with Alicia. Fortunately, he had his brother to elbow him in the back and bring him back to reality.
George was trying this method of powering through it, to focus entirely on work, until everything stopped hurting so badly. To him, it seemed perfectly reasonable, focus on the things that he could control, the things he was passionate about, until he was in a place to revisit the suck. So far, it was working pretty well.
So, at the end of the day, he was too exhausted to continue, and Fred sent him home, promising to finish the closing and the remainder of the customers. George was too burned out to even question this - usually he was the one who offered to do the money things - and headed home. He was going to collapse on his bed and not move again until morning. That was the best plan ever.
The first thing he noticed when he opened the door was the smell. He'd long ago gotten used to the Smell of Dudeā¢ that coated every surface. So used to it, that he didn't actually notice the scent of disinfectant or of the roast first, but the absence of the old musk.
So there he stood with the door slowly swinging open, realizing that the place was actually sparkling. "Whaaat the hell?" He said in awe. He hadn't even spotted Angie yet.