I am sitting on a wicker chair in the courtyard watching roses. I want to go home. This place is beautiful but I miss my chores. I miss my cat, I miss my stubborn husband who works the land like a madman, as if he would take it to the grave with him, I want to sleep in my own bed, to eat from my own crockery, I miss kneading bread dough in my wooden cove. I get up from my chair and make my way to the gate. A lady appears beside me and asks me where I'm heading off to. I'm going home, I answer. This is your home, mother.
Ioana Clara Enescu
He poured boiling water over the tea leaves in the white cup, covered it with a cap and then swirled it clockwise a few times. After that, he slowly drained the water in a bowl with colors of imperial jade and with a lotus flower drawn on it. Now we can start brewing the tea, he said whilst elegantly manoeuvring the containers from which steam was already rising, filling the room with the scent of freshly mown grass. He handed me a cup, I took it carefully but for just a second only, our hands touched.
Sanda Burță
Where have you ever seen, you silly child, a devil digging a well and an innkeeper serving water to its customers, my old man used to ask with a frown on his face whenever he found me in Anghelina's inn. I became a regular visitor to that inn only to see her. How may I serve you? she would ask without even taking a glance at me, and that irritated me even more. A pint of beer, I lied but it wasn't that hard to realise what a bad liar I was back in the day because her fake smile would immediately give it away. Then she would lean over the counter to place the pint on the table, and for one moment I could see her entire world. Hehe, now it's all gone, except Anghelina who still digs a deep well.
(Translated by Andreea Georgiana Bogdan / 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.