—Who are you? I asked, feeling terribly stupid talking to the vision. “Kikimoras,” the vision answered unanimously, nodding harmoniously. Hello, we've arrived. I told you, Veronica, your workaholism will not bring you any good. - What do you need? — I still continued to support this farce. “So get your hair done,” the answer from one of the faces sounded like a ringing bell, “at the hairdresser,” she shrugged her sharp shoulders and giggled. Yes, that's it. I slowly got up from the floor and straightened my coat. The kikimors also jumped up from their knees, huddled close to each other and went to the window, continuing to look at me. “It won’t work out today, I’m done and going home,” I said for some reason, taking my bag and keys, “and anyway, I work by appointment!”