He does a sicilian opening; a few poetic words, and she's gradually renounced any defense against them. The middle game didn't go smoothly on both flanks. And because it had been decided in heaven for them to be in love but never meet, she decided to mail him memories of herself. Blood drained in a vial, fingers preserved in jars. Eyes in a shiny tin box, soft hair in a sealed envelope. The heart? The heart she shall tie to the leg of any random horse. When the horse reached him, she'd suffocated.
(Translated by Bianca-Maria Ciucașu / 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 September 2022, the group has 9,250 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. 
