That window is lit, I can see it from the minibus among my colleagues who are tired just like me. It was a long working day, but at least I didn't feel homesick anymore. Maybe because of the girl I caught a glimpse of through the scaffolding. Climbed at the eighth floor, I was fixing the metal bars, but my gaze drifted to the window behind them. It was as if she had left it open on purpose and I could hear her singing voice and see her naked body dancing. I was mesmerized and I think I forgot to tighten some screws, I'll ask the boss to go up there again tomorrow.
Ana Vlad
The iron grill was the first thing you saw when you entered the old building where my mother's seamstress lived. I knew the elevator was behind it, but we always took the stairs. It's out of order, my mother would explain to me. She usually talked more, so when she sent me to get her coat, I pulled the grate, entered the elevator, and pressed the only button. Of course it wasn't out of order. When it stopped, behind the iron grill there was the elevator. I went in and pressed the only button. Of course it wasn't out of order. When it stopped
Ionuț Morariu
I've never dreamed a dream twice. The only ones that come back are the nightmares. I only remember them. Let me tell you one. Night after night, I decorate the same Christmas tree. Instead of baubles, I put pieces of bread. So that my dead ancestors would have something to eat this year as well. Oh, Christmas tree. It's such a shame you have no roots. That's why we are so similar, Christmas tree. Cut off just like you, I dream of a forest. Mine, of bread, yours, of old branches. Tree sap flows instead of tears. And I feel again the blade of an axe that cuts down a family tree.
(Translated by Bianca-Andreea Rîmboacă / 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.