You search up all available witches in your area. A few hundred euro, quickly, discreetly, and Tanța casts a spell on you, tells you to fast, to sleep with unicorn hair under your pillow and swallow garlic cloves whole on full moon nights. And you must stare at all costs at your naked self in the mirror and utter the red ink incantations she wrote down on a note with a crow's feather. When the prince eventually arrives, you seem to realize you don't like him because you're emotionally unavailable anyway.
Răzvan Drăgoi
The answer to this question, as well as to every fundamental question on life, love, the Universe and anything else, is 42. By duration, the bitch and the dog are the heads of the idea of a pair. By intensity, the mother-in-law and the kid. By adrenaline, the lover and her husband. You can find your other half via two methods: by planning or by mystical good luck. The plan, even if good, can fail, nobody is a sum of criteria and just that. Eminescu, I think, has it worst, by being both dead, and unpaired. Sigh.
Aurelian Țolescu
I bought boots ahead of time, with laces, so I could work out my stomach by bending, sighing, blaspheming. It wasn't to be, not even a hint of ice and snow. I walked in my shoes till February when snow fell in bucketloads. I rushed to my lovely, new, dapper boots, and found them both for the left foot. On Sunday I ran to the shop. Come in already, sir, you've ruined our sales. We've been waiting for 4 months with the boot in the back. Take the right, give us the left and good day to you. She was beautiful and I came back to buy flip-flops.
(Translated by Ioana Ștefan / 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.