She left imprints on my chest. I was drinking some unpasteurized beer at the bodega last night. A woman walked in out of nowhere. What was she doing here amongst so many drunkards? This is the Mount Athos of lowlives. The whistling quickly covered the sound of broken bottles. I started chatting with her. "I divorced this penniless guy.", she said, also mentioning that loves passes through the stomach. I replied that everything that does is digested. She liked that. I hope that I get to meet her again and that she'll recognize me, because I can't. I have prosopagnosia.
(Translated by Ruxandra Ioana Vasile / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)Real Fiction is a collective project started in 2013 by Florin Piersic Jr. The concept of Real Fiction continued to exist as a Facebook group, after a volume of stories was published at Humanitas Publishing House. (In May 2021, the group has 6.400 members.) The authors write ultra-short stories, with the texts limited to 500 characters (in Romanian, so the length of the English translation might be a little different) - a flash-fiction exercise on a topic that changes every few days. The group's coordinators are Florin Piersic Jr., Gabriel Molnar, Răzvan Penescu, and Luchian Abel. (Drawing by Adrian T. Roman)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficţiuni Reale. 
