It was just before I went back from town. You told me you wanted to, that we must meet. That night, make-or-break. Our bodies, welded into a furious embrace, sold their energies for a derisory price, among brutal kisses and vain promises. I went up on the roof, to breathe the sunrise in. You told me that love doesn't die of natural causes, but it must be killed, either through negligence or through narcissism. And I killed it two hours after, when you led me to the bus stop. Love remained small for me since then.
(Translated by Claudia Cioplea / 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 June 2022, the group has 8,500 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. 
