Odor of the Past Days by Artemii Smirnov

He was really busy
last week fussing about work and private life, in his head one word sprung up rhythmically "Vanity, vanity, va-ni-ty". He wasn't very tired, at least, not spirituality. His body was tired, he knew that, sometimes it demanded proper treatment like a weary child that became bored from a long path. But he had not so much time for himself, however, if he did he did not arrange it properly, leisure for him was no-thinking time, but to-turn-his-brain-off time. He would described it like the most uninteresting, dull and dim part of his day. Still, there were a moments he could not remember without the detached, pacified smile, and you would see him in such time sitting, embracing his knees, his head up and his eyes as if looking not outward but inward.
In one of the moments he just smelled this odor of straw toy which made him think about his childhood and this little turtle he used to have. Small, funny creature with serious expression on its face, always a little bit displeased and sceptical. It was so enjoyable to play with it.
So important for him to get home to see this small soldier on duty. The turtle was guarding its corner from intervention. Still, he cannot help encroaching on its freedom. He loved this little innocent creature. And he always remembered it with delight and the smile.
Just like that odor of the past made him remember the good old days of his life. And that was the moments he would not describe as uninteresting, dull and dim, but rather lovely and sweet.