The clock ticks down to zero at the CCC, where sad, sad children write cards to the volunteers, and Poor, Poor Anthony suggests that they say some "final goodbyes." Elka speaks into a microphone, "My time here was very special to me. I'm gonna remember all of you. I hope you guys learned from me. Because I learned from you." Awwww. Cut to shots of kids lamenting the end of the Somber Seven's tenure. And they're crying. Not melancholy tears of time passing and things changing. This is, like, wailing. Hugs and tears and crying. A confessional from Syrus tells us, "The whole importance of this whole thing is so deep that I don't think people understand it." And then he leans out of the camera's range and starts bawling. What the hell is going on? Jason tells us, "We had to grow up a little bit. To do the job well." Well, that's speculative. A little girl asks Syrus, "Who's gonna live in the firehouse?" Syrus laughs, "The where?" And then he collects himself and posits, "I don't know. A bunch of firemen, maybe?" Yes, perhaps on an upcoming episode of B/M's new reality special, Making the Burn Victim. Otherwise, I wouldn't recommend it. That pole doesn't provide the necessary traction to slide down when it's swathed in an Ikea throw rug and a dozen order-in menus from Artu. ["Where? Oh, Artu. I didn't hear you when you said Artu the first time. Go on." -- Wing Chun] Sean hugs a kid with giant, ill-fitting glasses, noting, "This is my twin." Heh. Close. Except the kid is nine and weighs one pound and still wears a tank top. So maybe that line was scripted for Jason. Said kid asks Elka, "You coming back tomorrow?" Elka says she is not. "How's It Gonna Be" plays on as Anthony shakes their hands and tries not to look too gleeful. I've never seen a man not about to get laid so happy.

REM's "Nightswimming" + Journey's "Don't Stop Believing" + a piano-driven lick from Ben Folds's less musically adept brother, um, Sven Folds = packing-oriented soundtrack melancholy of the most appropriate kind.