Who lives there? Where? You pretend you don't get it, as always. And another floor was rising, with door, door after door, door after door. All darker and darker. Every night, from room to room, I carried a roller cart, covered with a damask tablecloth, with many silver vessels in which the fiery tongues of love were extinguished in wine, covered with a lid, and a bright red flower, in a thin, crystal glass. Perhaps today. But every day, the same card was hung on each doorknob:
do not disturb.
(Translated by Alina-Mihaela Burciu / 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 January 2022, the group has 7.830 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. 
