That summer was the last time my mother had green eyes. Later, I appeared, unexpectedly slippery and painful in her split into steep choices world. Since that moment, her eyes became scattered ink over every trance of my steps. I wanted to grow up. Big. Big enough to reach her irises with my frail hands and save her. To cleanse the dark violet invasions off the brilliance of all worries. I rushed to grow up. But babies make mistakes too, don't they? Forgive me mother, for not being able to love me back.
(Translated by Ana Spînu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / 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 July 2021, the group has 6.800 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. 
