Did you think I was writing for me? Well not, because everything I write comes from the torment you subject me to. My suffering is boundless. My words are intertwined in your stillness. You have no idea. Just as you don't even understand how dear you are to me. And how much I hate you. My muse. My demonic angel. Cursed miracle. And you, nothing. What would I have needed epistolary love with a statue? But no more. This is the last one. And as revenge, know that I'll put it in the box where the last letters are. Farewell.
(Translated by Elena Crețu / 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 September 2021, the group has 7.150 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 Ficțiuni Reale. 
