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„You’re free to go!“ shouts the party committee leader. Mama shudders and runs out of the office.

We return to the editorial office. Now Mama is nervous. She walks back and forth around the room, biting her lip. Then she dials the telephone. She puts down the receiver before she finishes dialing. She dials again. She puts down the receiver again. On her fourth attempt, she makes her decision. Without saying hello, she speaks haltingly, as if afraid that she might be interrupted at any moment:

„Zina, do you get visits from editors of factory newspapers?“

„Sometimes…“

„Could you tell me if anyone needs a literary editor?“

„What happened?“ Zina exclaims with alarm. „Are you looking for work?“

„Not yet. But… I got such a scolding… I think they’re going to fire me.“

„For what?“

„For the poetry. The devil deceived me, and I trusted Krugman. Anyway, remember what I asked you. OK?“

„All right, I’ll ask around,“ Zina says hesitantly.

Mama is even more upset, realizing that she cannot count on her friend for help. I try to distract her by pulling on the cord several times and calling sorrowfully: „Mama! Mommy!“