What does a woman want?...

...I was standing in line at a grocery store. No, not a supermarket with fancy self - service. With shiny carts, shelves, cans, bags, saleswomen, and at the same time, supervisors. Quiet shoppers who carefully sneak past cash registers, through turnstiles and guards, gloomy security guards who “allow them to access the products” whenever they want. And they may not allow it. Shopping from Universam has its own gambling charm... I was standing in the confectionery department. I was in a hurry, but the woman in line in front of me paid for the purchase of a cake with a large bill. The seller - woman grumbled. “There’s no change at the register,” and she reached across the counter to take the purchase back. The woman took a bite of the cake and began to chew. “You’ll have to wait a long time for change,” the saleswoman promised. The woman ate the cake, twisted the bag and crumbs, and waited some more. V. Shukshin wrote stories about the gloomy soul of a saleswoman. And he became a classic of literature. The magnificent Zoshchenko delighted us with theatrical cakes. But the path of a beginning writer is difficult. I watched. I missed the development of the conflict. Two ladies were arguing across the counter. A long line formed and supported the saleswoman. Oh the eternal cry of offended customers! - Give me the complaint book! - We walked along the hall and passed it to the end. A short woman was waiting for us and was a merchandiser or deputy and explained. - Nobody will work for such a salary. Others will come and may be worse. We could apologize to you. Our saleswoman's daughter got sick today. “I want a book of complaints,” a neighbor from the queue habitually said. And she stopped. There is a moment like calm: a window or eye of the storm in the midst of any conflict. It's called the moment of truth. The two women were connected by something, connected by each other... “Okay, I’ll probably accept your half - unspoken apology,” said the customer. “I’m not used to being treated like this for my money.” I looked very stupid and probably seemed like an idiot to you. I can no longer come to your store or buy cakes. - Please, come! - Her interlocutor opened her eyes, which suddenly became huge, and turned out to be feminine and fragile against the backdrop of the pot - bellied bottles of the wine department. A miracle was born. Two women loved each other across the counter. Don’t smile if you know that women’s love is possible only in the absence of men, their gifts, and compliments. The two women loved each other, and warm feelings gradually filled those around them and spread in waves throughout the hall. They complimented each other, sincerely admired each other, and promised to meet again at the store. They left very happy. I thought: a woman does not love, does not know how and cannot live without love. She perceives her temporary absence as a painful emptiness and fills it indifferently - with another love or hatred. In her corner of the counter, indifferent or indifferently gloomy, a lonely woman, a saleswoman, remained excluded from the circle of loving hearts...