Letter from mother

  Mother has written.
  When he first came to the city, Vinka was always anxiously waiting for his mother’s letter, and when he received it, he eagerly opened it and read it greedily. Half a year later, he opened the letter listlessly, with a mocking sneer on his face—he already knew the old-fashioned content of the letter without reading it.
  My mother sent me a letter every week, and it always started with the same pattern: “My dear baby Vinka, good morning (or evening)! This is my mother’s letter to you, sending you my best wishes. Best wishes, I wish you health and happiness. The first thing I want to tell you in this text message is that, thank God, I am alive and in good health, which is also your wish. I am also eager to tell you: I am doing well …”
  The end of each letter was also the same: “The letter is almost over, my son, I beg you, I pray to God, don’t hang out with bad people, don’t drink vodka, respect the elders, and take care of yourself. You are my only kin in this world, and if anything should happen to you, I shall surely die. This letter will end here. I look forward to hearing from you, dear son. Kiss you. Your mother.”
  Therefore , Vinka read only the middle part of the letter, frowning contemptuously as he read, feeling incomprehensible at mother’s interest in life. It was all trivial things: some neighbor’s sheep got into Pashka Voronzo’s garden and ate up all his cabbage; — there are as many scarves as these are needed here, in the city…
  Vinka threw the letter he had read into the bedside table, and then forgot about it until the next tear-stained letter from his mother, in which, as usual, Beg him, for God’s sake, to write a reply.
  Vinka stuffed the letter he had just received into his pocket, walked through the noisy hallway of the dormitory after get off work, and walked into his room.
  Paid today. The boys are getting ready to hit the streets: busy pressing shirts, trousers, finding out who’s going where, who’s on a date, and so on. Vinka undressed deliberately slowly, took a bath, and changed. After all the people in the same room had left, he locked the door and sat down at the table. I took out a notepad and a ballpoint pen that I bought after receiving my salary for the first time from my pocket, opened a blank page, and meditated…
  Just an hour ago, on his way back to his dormitory, he met an acquaintance from his hometown. After exchanging pleasantries, the fellow asked about Vinka’s salary and living conditions, then shook his head reproachfully and said, “You should send some money to your mother. Winter is coming soon. We have to invite People transport firewood, chopping, and sawing. Your mother only has her little pension… You know it.” Of course,
  Vinka knew it.
  He bit his lip, and carefully wrote a number in the middle of the top of the white paper: 126, then drew a vertical line from top to bottom, wrote “Expenditure” on the top left column, and “Amount” on the right column. “. He pondered for a moment, took the calendar and calculated how many days were left until the advance, and then wrote 12 in the left column, and a multiplication sign and the number 4 in the right column, and the total was 48. What follows is written much faster: repaying debts – 10, buying trousers – 30, saving – 20, movies, dancing, etc. – 4 days, 2 rubles for 1 day – 8, the rest – 10 rubles.
  Vinka snorted: 10 rubles, it would be outrageous to send such an amount to mother, and the villagers would laugh at it. He rubbed his chin, resolutely crossed out the word “surplus” and changed it to “pocket use”, muttering in his heart: “I will send it when I receive the advance salary next time.”
  He put down the ballpoint pen and put the notepad in his pocket , Stretched, thinking of my mother’s letter. He yawned and looked at his watch, took out the envelope, opened it, and pulled out the letter. When he unfolded the letter paper, a 3-ruble banknote gently fell on his lap

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