Powder aroma in a tin

It was opened slowly. The lid was slightly stuck - you had to turn it sideways, diagonally. Inside - a white cloud with a slightly pink tint. And the smell... such as nothing smells today .

It wasn't makeup. It was the gesture of a woman getting ready . To the market. To visit. To the doctor. Without brightness. Without emphasis. Just so that the face wouldn't look tired, but "smoothed".

How it was done:

— The powder puff (the one with the bow) was kept inside— A little powder — on the nose, on the cheeks, on the forehead— The excess — was blown away— Sometimes they powdered their shoulders, if it was summer— And always — without a mirror, almost blindly

The powder didn't hide. It softened . As if the woman were saying to herself: "I'm almost ready..."

Then the lid was closed again. And the tin can became a silent participant in the morning peace .

Today there are no more of these. But if suddenly in an old house there is a smell of a thin, dusty flower - it is, perhaps, powder. And a woman. Who remained.