This song hasn't been written yet, she said, twirling her finger through her locks. She turned her eyes to him, two green poisons. He, rounding his mouth raffishly: would you? What about you? she turned the question back to him. And then? It will be as it always was. They told each other stories without end, bypassing the reality that was growing like a flame bite, sometimes cold, sometimes hot. Just to reach out, pick and taste until the time went down. He waved his thought, she rested her eyelid. Tomorrow. Pretend to love me tomorrow.
(Translated by Lorina Xiaoyu Hou / 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 August 2022, the group has 9,000 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. 
