Yes, I died. Are you happy, you gossip bitches? Come on, stop crying, I didn't leave you anything anyway. I changed my will. Don't let me see you with flowers and regrets, or your next. Those who did not seek me when I was alive, are refused to see my womb. Surely you're dying of pity, that you don't know if I have put my lipstick on and perfumed, if I'm wearing designer clothes and a hat with flakes. But I might stink. The party's at the disco around the corner. Free drinks for the three guests, one day a year. Drink your finery, it's all paid for.
(Translated by Andreea-Iulia Ciucă / 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 July 2022, the group has 8,750 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. 
