The village mill grinds up everything, like a ruminant that munches its food in peace. The floor creaks under the weight of his steps. A broad-shouldered man, covered in flour from head to toe, rolls up his sleeves as he is walking. What are you doing here? Uncle Iancu, I'm looking for mister teacher. It's very important, he told me that if I don't come with my homework for the whole week done and if I don't help him load sacks today, he won't give me a passing grade. You girl, today is a scythe day, go home. I'm the only one here. Go give your mother a handful of flour so she'll make you bread.
Teia Brînză
During the day, she rules the world from the cage of a shiny skyscraper, During the evening, she lets her body slide in the bathtub covered by a lavender steam. The ounce of life she has left is slowly dripping in her empty glass. The wine is the only bardo where the demons are gentle. She could stay there forever, buried in fragrant crowns, sprinkled with dew. Anything but the grave. She is terrified of the cross with the plastic wreaths, which closely resemble her award-winning flower crowns. Under their burden, she learned to lie (to herself) and to hate (herself).
Ada Cocoș
She had never let herself be crammed into narrow corners, drawn by small and petty minds. But the man in front of her was pushing her to one of those places, he wanted her to not recognize herself anymore, to erase her from the face of the Earth. Under his raised fist, for a moment, she once again became the little sad girl who didn't do her homework and who dreamed that she was adopted and that one day her real parent would come rescue her. Nobody had come. She looked him in the eye and she clung to him almost lovingly, slipping doubt under his ribs.
(Translated by Claudia Cioplea / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.