Nothing, not a plum, for three years. As if someone had put a curse on our plum tree. I've been making my husband pray with me every night by the plum tree for three years, we went to all the Sunday services, and respected every religious fasting. Then, one sunny morning, the first signs appeared - the plum tree yielded fruit. It's just that I wanted to make jam out of them, and my husband wanted tuica. Because we didn't agree at all, I got mad and gave them as a gift to our neighbour Vasile. And what do you think his wife made out of them? Palinka.
Miruna Marin
This fall he has learnt more new things than ever. That leaves rustle under the boots. That squirrels scurry the cities too. That hills are most beautiful during fall. That nuts can be crushed with your heels and the little girls from kindergarten are very cheerful if you share the pulp with them. That acorns have hats, and chestnuts are shiny and wet when they go out of their spiky little homes. That the letters R and B look alike, but they resemble number 8 as well. That beating is torn from the heavens. That big boys don't cry, even if mommy's crying. That there is always a winter to come.
Ana-Maria Butuza
The funerals took place quietly at the end of September. I had a sensation of overwhelm that I couldn't defeat. I was watching the people that showed up from behind my smoky sunglasses. Fake. Eagles waiting for the last piece of dirt to be thrown. The image of him was too fresh in my mind and it seemed extremely strange to me that he was no longer a part of this world, that, at that moment, he couldn't see the people he had cashed up. I knew what I had to do. Autumn cleaning, just with a single click from a distance, as he had taught me.
(Translated by Cristina-Andreea Dobre / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.