Zinochka was dreaming that she was being kissed by a grown man. It was harrowing and wonderful, but not scary at all because mom was around somewhere. Zina knew she was nearby and that she could call her for help, and – did not do that. The dream ended, and with it ended the kisses, and Zina squeezed her eyes tightly shut so she could be kissed just one more time.
Waking up had to happen anyway. Without opening her eyes, she kicked the blanket off with her feet, waited to cool off a little bit, and sat up. And immediately saw something horrifying: instead of her summer underwear, which enveloped her body so neatly, the chair held a pair of nasty knit long-johns, long enough to reach her knees. All the lingering sleepiness, all the pleasure of the morning, all the delight of a new day immediately disappeared. Zina grabbed the pants and, wearing only her nightshirt, charged into the kitchen.