I was reading to him on the phone. Every day, at four in the afternoon, he'd call me. That's all I could do back then, that's all I could think of. Only after a few months did I ask him if he wanted to meet, and from the low, almost whispering tone of the sound of his voice I understood how much he wanted to. What if we wouldn't get along? I know how to get you. Your usual voice is pale pink, almost white. When you don't like something, it turns blue. If I stop at light blue, I'm sure we'll get along perfectly.
(Translated by Alina-Dorina Nicolae / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by prof. dr. Nadina Vișan / Edited by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.