I could hear the skritch-skratch, brushing sound of the sandpaper, hear the blowing of the dust off the wood and feel the the evergrowing smoothnes of the wood, smell it all too! Love the fragrance of carpentry. You've brought it clearly in but a few word.
You had to do a haiku, didn't you? The idea of sandpaper polishing wood and, in the process, wearing down could have been a great story. But you had to do a haiku.
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