“By the way, the magazine with your ‘Bum and Beauty’ story is coming out tomorrow. Practically everyone in our editorial office liked it. Only the proofreader, when she read the text, frowned in disgust. In any case, no one was indifferent toward it. I congratulate you: your career as a bum has ended and your career as a writer has begun.”

Martin sorted through everything in his head and, realizing that David wasn’t joking, cheered up and smiled.

“What time does the magazine go on sale?” he asked.

“E-version at midnight tonight, and the hard copy tomorrow at eight in the morning, maybe nine,” said David.

“Just in case, I’ll come by at seven, maybe it’ll be there by then. How much does a hard copy cost?”

“A dollar.”

Martin pursed his lips: “I won’t die if I go without lunch for a week. I can get sandwiches on the street if I need to.”

“How many copies do you plan to buy?” asked David with a little irony. “Or do you intend to buy the whole circulation?”

“About 30. One issue I’ll send to my parents in Poland, though they don’t read English. But anyway. I’ll show one to my landlady. Let her know who’s renting her attic. I’ll also bring some to work for my construction co-workers… In a word, I’ll buy 30 copies, no less.”

The sun is getting hot. Despite the sweltering heat, the beach is gradually filling up.

“Tony! Let the little girl play with your shovel. She’ll give it back when she’s done!” shouted David.

Skinny and lively Anthony, hearing his father’s command, stopped bickering and, reluctantly, gave his shovel to the little girl.

“Even the children in this city grow up damn capitalists. They don’t share anything, they keep everything for themselves.”

“It seems you’re in a bad mood today,” noticed Martin. “Is something wrong?”