Horrible delegation. I'm beat. I have the evening off and nothing scheduled. He's not answering, he's probably at his mother's, he doesn't want to talk. I miss something nice. I'm taking London in my stride. St Martin in the Fields. Baroque concert. Without thinking I pay for a ticket and go in. I have no idea what I'm looking for here, but Bach sounds divine. The heavy ones disappear and I think this life is beyond the job, him with his mother, his child. Though evening, I see the white sky through the stained glass. And a black swan comes through the window. I get on its back and we leave to the strains of Vivaldi.
(Translated by Andreea Grințescu / 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 April 2023, the group has 11,000 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, Luchian Abel, and Vlad Mușat. (Drawing by Adrian T. Roman)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale. 
