When I was dizzy from the pride vapors I wanted to cross the street in hurry, but he saved me by trippingme with a stone from the ground, breaking my nose. When I was lost with my financial luck in 1977 I wanted to buy an apartment, but the ground shook under my feet, destroying my future housing. When I wrote the famous posthumous thoughts, it vented like invisible ink, it went out cuniform horrible stutters. Now he slept like the dead in a cornfield when I got married. What an angel. I'm selling it.
(Translated by Georgiana Carmen Rădulescu / 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. 
