That evening, after an exhausting day, I dressed in my gray three-piece suit, golden silk tie, ready to relax. I had prepared pancake dough. Without thinking, I began to spread it on my shirt, my arms, my jacket. The cold and creamy dough spread slowly, covering every seam, every fold of the fabric. The sensation was both confusing and pleasant, a soft texture. I found myself covered in this chaos, a little moment of liberating madness. After a moment of absurd pleasure, I made the water from the shower flow. The hot water melted the dough, which spread over my skin.