Glikeria walks into the room. She just stands there, hesitating.
“I just wanted to ask something… This flannel you wanted – how much is it per meter?”
“Well, it’s all different,” – I reply. – “if it has flowers on it and it’s a bit thicker – it’s more expensive. Two forty-five.”
“In new money?”
“Of course,” – I say. – “It’s all in new money now.”
She’s still there moving her lips:
“Three meters – seven rubles that is… And the thinner kind?”
“The thinner kind is flannelette, at one ruble forty,” – I reply. – “It’s too thin and soils easily.”
“You know what,” – she fumbled in her skirt and took out her purse. – “I’ve only got one ruble eighty now. I’ll get my pension payment in the next few days. Go and buy two pieces, pick them yourself, whichever is better. I’ll make dresses for yo
