Her eyes were dripping on her friend's future husband. Are you marrying him? He's the thirteenth. It will be bad luck. And, what do you suggest? Find another one, you know, fast. You mean, like, cheat on him? No, just make him the fourteenth. Her friend listens to her, she is caught in the act, not in vain was the devil in it, and she gets married with the thirteenth. At the wedding, the traitor, in a desperate leap to catch the bouquet and her friend's ex, falls with her eyes in two toothpicks stuck in meatballs. And they start to drip. Tough luck.
(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.