I could feel our love suffocating me. I was lost in moments of passion and forgot that my purpose was different. I already cared, and for some like us, love was a weakness. I sold her illusions and did it without remorse. I had become the monster that many feared, and he had no defense, because he didn't know who I was or where I was going. One ordinary morning I kissed his soft lips, then flew his brains on the white pillow. Cold and soft as a summer rain. I wrote down on the table the time of the assassins.
(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. 
