My first impulse was to erase that fucking CS executable off my desktop, but mom called and said there was no more need: my building got erased, the bomb handled my game already. But I'm still mad - what the fuck are you doing here? I thought I knew how to aim, but my hands are shaking as if I were human, not soldier. I put a CPR armband up my sleeves and one of my fellow soldiers asked if I was a corporal. I smiled bitterly, didn't correct him - who the fuck would want to be covered by a scared CorPoRate wearing glasses?
(Translated by Elena-Diana Cocîr / 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 March 2022, the group has 8,050 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. 
