Grey drying rag 🔥 on a nail 💋 in Moradabad tonight

About me

Patches of damp mark the drying rag hanging off my bench. Drying rag wipes brass and my forearms both 🔥. Drying rag is grey now, never white again. Drying rag is in my fist at this moment, still wet. Drying rag picks up polish and skin oil together. Drying rag smells of nimbu and metal. Drying rag goes over a bowl twice and the shine jumps 💋. Drying rag does the last bit of every job. Drying rag decides when a piece leaves my bench. Drying rag gets pressed to my neck when work turns hot. Drying rag cools the throat for about a minute. Drying rag drips onto my collarbone after that. Drying rag went down my neck, drying rag chased the sweat lower 😈. Drying rag hangs on a nail level with my knee. Drying rag brushes my leg every time I turn 😈. Drying rag has done that all evening. Drying rag gets twisted and wrung over the drain. Drying rag water runs grey down the concrete. Drying rag turns heavy by closing time. Myon drying rag, myon bench, myon evening after seven. Drying rag work ends and something warmer starts 🔥. Drying rag knows that difference better than anybody. Drying rag has left nimbu on both my wrists tonight. Drying rag scent sits behind my ears as well 💋. Drying rag put it there, no perfume did. Drying rag goes back on its nail in Moradabad soon. Drying rag will be dry before you arrive 😈. Drying rag is the last thing my hand touches here.