As we packed boxes in her bedroom for her to move downtown, the chill track on Pandora sounded like seduction or something like the unimpeded breach of taboo or seeping glops of wildflower honey from a tabletop onto a white-tiled floor in a sterile room or like the dirty downfall of someone stoic or a secret animal or quiet uncaging of a deep-rooted impulse to defy after all like a forbidden undressing or a slow gush relished to the last drop with something unmistakenly lascivious across their lips as they lapped it up.