Yes, I do like it. When I get home from school, I take my clothes off, I take my books and notebooks out of the backpack, I sit down at my desk and then get to work. Every lesson is like a game, it's a pleasure to learn new things. As soon as the interview was over and the cameras went off, the mother hugged her child contently. You were perfect, she said. Now come home, you have an essay due tomorrow. Once in her room, the little girl sat down at her desk and began to tear out all the sheets in her notebook.
George Dometi
The yellow dress stained with red dots of blood spurting from the carotid artery was lying dumped in a metal trash can into which the child was pouring acid. She washed her hands, loosened from holding the kitchen knife, wiped all the traces from the floor, pulled the body into the tub and repeated the acid process wearing a protective suit. Then she sat down at the table and wrote 100 times: I don't like writing. After four hours she pulled the stopper out of the tub and the viscous liquid reminiscent of her mother slowly had trickled down the drain.
Gheorghiță Mircea
I couldn't resist her smile and I did her homework. First in math, then in all subjects. I'd make her cheat sheets for midterms. For pop-quizzes I wrote two papers and signed one with her name, and when the papers were collected, hers stayed under the desk. Same thing for the final exams. I took the college entry exam in her place, cut my hair, dyed it red and painted freckles on my nose like she had in the picture from her ID. Today she's getting married. I'm a bridesmaid. Husband was a virgin, I fixed that too.
(Translated by Diana Caragea / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.