I used to see him walking by the carriage every day. Come on, Joița. I had to sell that black horse. Spring will come and I'll make you a mother. Come on, help me get through the winter. The docile cow was looking only at the ground. And she was going just where Ion wanted. In the spring, with the calf behind her, she'd take the carriage with corn to the market. If you help me, I'll buy a horse in winter. After that I'll let you ride with your herd. Wide-eyed, the cow was ruminating quietly. In autumn, Ion sliped off the loft. His last thought was of Joița. Forgive me. I cannot buy that horse anymore.
Andrei Tiganus
A splash of blood on the grey street. There she goes, running across the asphalt desert. Listen to her thunder under the hood. The detective, thought-side, was looking from his office window. It was mine, Hopkins. It was mine, he said resignedly. Why did you split up? I had to. I couldn't support her anymore. She started to screw up my nose. She was always asking for more and more. And what did you do with her? I sold her. Hopkins looked at the detective terrified. How could you sell your own girlfriend? What are you talking about, Hopkins?
Siranuș Hakobian
For years I've pinched myself of seeing my red dream parked under the balcony, two wheels on the pavement. The dream coming true didn't suit me, though, because since I'd taken the Ferrari I couldn't rest, I had my eye twitching and my bowel irritable. I was scared that someone would scratch up with the key on its paint or, God forbid, steal it altogether. When my wife woke me from my lethargic slumber, I thought I'd have a heart attack: the Ferrari? No, man, the child got fever. I heaved a sigh of relief and sold it: my hair was starting to fall out.
(Translated by Florina Georgiana Țîncu / 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.