She wanted to forget what it had been like until yesterday. She wanted him to be different now. To watch how life sweat on her lips, but to remain silent. She just let him hang his desires in her hair. Passenger. I'm empty, she told him. I don't love anymore. I'm still recovering from our overdose of love. You may have forgotten, but a decade ago, when I left, I left you a layer of my soul. I'm an undead now. One that hosts a megalomaniacal self, in which you mirror yourself. In other times. Past, unhealed wounds.
(Translated by Ana-Maria Mușetescu / 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 April 2022, the group has 8,175 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. 
