Lydia (rudely, dissatisfied). What do you want? Zhigulevsky?
The 2nd buyer (in an alcoholic squeaky voice with the obsequiousness inherent in this type of people at the right moment). Of course…
Lydia (rudely, displeased). Oh, here, just get out of here, don't scare off customers with your appearance.
Lydia gives the bottle to the window, the buyer immediately hides it somewhere under his clothes, puts crumpled bills in the window, pours out the change, while not forgetting to thank.
The 2nd buyer (in an alcoholic squeaky voice with the obsequiousness inherent in this type of people at the right moment for them). Yes, you are my savior. Lead, I'll do anything for you. You just whistle, if there's anything, I'm for you…
Lydia (rudely, displeased, waving her hand outwards). That's it, go, go already…
the buyer leaves staggering. Lydia closes the window.
The music is amplified again.
A few seconds later, a third customer appears. Average outfit. Down jacket, warm pants, boots. The hood is deeply draped. This person holds the hood with his hand from the viewer's side, also hides away from the wind, so we don't see his face either.
He approaches the stall, looks at the window, takes money out of his pocket, counts, knocks.
The music stops.
Lydia opens the window.
3rd customer (in a cheerful male voice). Give me a couple of lemonades, please. My son's birthday is today, I didn't have enough. The kids are sitting at the table, waiting.
Lydia (respectfully, with warmth). Yes, please.
Serves two plastic poltorashki in the window.
Lydia (respectfully, with warmth). Will these go?
the 3rd buyer (in a cheerful male voice). They will, thank you.
The music is growing.
The buyer pays, takes the goods, leaves.
Lydia closes the window.
He goes out a few seconds later again on the street, in the same outfit, throwing on a sweatshirt as he goes. He sweeps the windows with a brush again, again splits the snow under the window. Out of breath, he leans on the stall, looks around.
There are no buyers yet.
Lydia loosens the shawl a little, exhales languidly.
Lydia (to the viewer, in a tired voice). Yeah… And so it is from day to day… Could I have thought in my younger years that everything would turn out like this? Do you think I dreamed about this?
He points with his hand and nods at the stall.