Among sirens, white robes, stretchers and cracked hands, the same question. They brought him here to die? Quick steps, rooms, sheets, helpless eyes. Night, tram, stairs, elevator, mother's hand, father's tears. Your mother dies, I'm going too, child. Morning, tram, he is dying here, full moon, what will I do if it takes your mother? Toothpaste, coffee, blood on the robe, raining on the way to the stairs. It's raining from my father's eyes. Spring, I made some bitter coffee and drink the dregs of the words boiled over a low fire.
(Translated by Alin-Marian Mărgescu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / 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 May 2023, the group has 11,260 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. 
