Under neon rain, “sonic and amy boom” follows a woman stripping out of a soaked dress in her high-rise window. City lights reflect off wet skin as “sonic and amy boom” watches her press palms to glass, ass arched toward the camera. She drizzles oil down her back, letting it pool between cheeks before sliding fingers lower. “sonic and amy boom” zooms on her reflection—eyes half-lidded, mouth open—as she rides her own hand against the skyline. The storm outside mirrors the one building inside; “sonic and amy boom” catches her knees buckling when she comes, city oblivious to the show only “sonic and amy boom” owns.