In a history museum, a trigger watched a soldier's rifle. They had been hanging on the wall, facing each other, since the gun room was created. He couldn't see the writing in front of it, but he had heard its history on guided tours. She was famous. For a temporary exhibition in another country, the museum selected a few examples, including the rifle. The morning the gun saw the empty spot, he felt alone. He would have killed himself, but he had no bullets. He had always hoped to be like his idol when he grew up.
Cecilia Fofiu
My family is modest in education and status, only I have risen through the finger skills observed by the drawing teacher. My beloved parents go to church and leave me to my own service. I enter the fine arts competition and pay my expenses with small figurines, imitations of great artists, sold at fairs. This summer I went home, my proud family on fire. Until today, when my father finds a pagan idol on the table. He smashes it to smithereens and chases me away. It was a copy of Brâncuși's écorché.
Florentina Ghițescu
The blonde marvel, that's what they called him. Ever since I started playing football I wanted to be like him. Life wanted something else for me, I broke my leg and ended the chapter. There are still nights I can't sleep and think what if things were different. One night I woke up when I kicked the chest of drawers when I caught the ball on the volley after a perfect cross. I went to the psychologist and he said it was time to hang up my boots. I visited him in Craiova and asked him to stop haunting me. I've been sleeping fine ever since.
(Translated by Miruna-Gabriela Flipache / 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.