olfactory mnemonics

.
A surge of the scent of mop water filled my nose and head,
with the days I served my time as an indentured servant
with Stockholm Syndrome, for my family's petroleum business.
"What's that disgusting smell?" said Mel, really not
knowing where to begin in only recognizing it as gross.
But I knew. I knew if you didn't wash a mop
and squeeze it dry after scrubbing a dirty floor with it,
it would smell sour the next day, and that that very smell
was the smeared stain of laziness and neglect
for the sake of who-knows-what of doing a half-assed
cleaning job to any building's floor.