I'm at the beach. Ass up. He's taking lots of pictures of me, from every possible angle. He says he'll really enjoy admiring them later, when we're old and done. I'm ashamed of developing them, giggle in front of the photo shop and send him to pick them up. The guy at the cash register grins at him implicitly. Good times. Now a different kind of shame makes me cover my weathered body. That album was always his favourite read. Since he's gone, it lies at the bottom of a drawer.
Denisse Oana Rădoi
Paris is the city where all emotions are heightened and lovers' dreams come true. I'm sitting at the hotel room window, looking at the Eiffel Tower and wanting to kill myself. Longing has become pain and pain mental illness. I search for something to write a frugal farewell note. In a dresser drawer I find a photo of you. I start to write on the back of it It's time for me to go, then my vision goes dark. Guess who, I hear you behind me giggling, while your palms playfully cover my eyes.
Adriana Patroi Miu
It was the wolf. I quickly took his image in. I had hidden his image in the deepest drawer of my soul before I knew his name. We were having lunch at the extended daycare no. 3. He meticulously placed his napkin around his neck raised his fork in an attempt to fool a limp olive, opened his mouth exaggeratedly wide, with his crooked teeth, then asked me seriously: do you want to be Little Red Riding Hood? Because I'm going to be the wolf. When the parents came in I was still wiping the stained ketchup off the walls. I haven't seen him since.
(Translated by Adela Neacșu / 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.