13 flowers. The old lady went on, with tears in her eyes. He loved me so much, but I didn't love him. He brought me flowers every day. He waited for me when I got out the factory. I was married, but my husband only knew how to beat me. He was jealous all his life of the 13 flowers I received daily. He beat me then we cried together. I only loved him, but I wanted children and he couldn't. He'd beat me and ask me if they're his children. Poor him, he beat me all his life. The old man in front of her, with 13 flowers in his hand, cried too. But who are you?
(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.