Phyllis enters Michael's office for his signature, but refuses to look at him. Michael loses his temper and goes out to yell at everyone that their disapproval doesn't change anything. "I'm going to leave right now and go to a motel to meet Donna." Kevin asks why not his condo, and I'm skipping Michael's answer because it's gross. Stanley tells him to drop it already, and Michael calls him "Morgan Freeman, narrating everything." Andy says nobody's going to stop him if that's what he's waiting for. Michael says nobody had better try, and leaves. I could have stopped him," Dwight says. Michael goes out and gets in his car. Nobody stops him.
Angela meets Dwight in their old spot, and they duck behind the sliding door. . Which turns out to be right below Jim and Pam's new spot. So they get to hear the sound of Dwight's zipper coming down and Angela asking, "What did you do to yourself?" "Stop kissing me," Dwight says. "It's not in the contract."
Michael drives to his assignation, and over the course of a wordless, twenty-second shot, he visibly changes his mind.
He returns to the office, and without a word to anyone, heads back to the freezer I the kitchen and gets out the ice cream. "How do I feel about breaking up with Donna?" he VOs. "Good. Moral. I feel proud. Like a grown-up. That was not easy. Because I really liked her a lot." Enough to break up with her via text message, it turns out. "At the end of the day, we have to do what's right. And it was either living with myself or being happy. And I picked the l...former." Hey, I've made that mistake. Got e-mails about it, too. The latter/former thing, I mean.
In the tag, Michael comes out of the building and finds himself ambushed by a news crew from WBRE, the NBC affiliate for northeastern Pennsylvania. "Do you want to make a comment on the rumors?" the reporter asks, sticking a microphone in his face. Michael heaves a sigh, and starts to apologize abjectly. I can just see this ending up in 60 Minutes, but it's lucky for him in a perverse way that he concludes, "I vow to never listen to my bodily instincts, ever again." The reporter clarifies, "I'm talking about the Sabre printers that catch on fire." Michael's relieved that she's not asking what he thought she was. "Wait, what's going on?" he asks gormlessly. Yeah, I think we have a set-up for the finale next week.
M. Giant is a Minneapolis-based writer with a wife, a son, and a number of cats that seems to have settled at around two. Learn waaaay too much about him at Velcrometer, follow him on Twitter , or just e-mail him at m.giant[at]gmail.com.