For 13 weeks, I carried you under my heart. 91 days. Almost. When you weren't around anymore, everyone rushed to assure me that it wasn't my fault. That I shouldn't blame myself. Such things happen. It doesn't mean I won't be able to be happy anymore. That I should indulge myself, because I'll have others too. The day you were no more around, I went deaf, and forgetting the purpose of words, I couldn't tell anyone what had happened to me. Over time, I understood that it was easier to shake my head, without telling them that since you've been gone, there's no more me.
(Translated by Andreea Zofotă / 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 Ficţiuni Reale.