Although so small, he was a very thrifty little mouse. He didn't gnaw on found things like other mice. Since the Young Man had moved in, he had decorated his nest with a host of knick-knacks that, to him, looked like museum-worthy treasures: a champagne cork, a napkin with lipstick on it, a goodbye letter. But the most precious thing, dropped just yesterday, was a goodbye note, stained with blood. But that didn't bother him, it matched his lipstick perfectly. He was, as you might say, an exquisite collector.
Dan Banu
First fell a big piece of sky. In the kitchen. It broke three plates and the bowl that held the candle oil. Then little pieces kept breaking off until the sky was empty. They fell into the yard over the flowers, a flower a corner of the sky, a flower a corner of the sky. Left without a dome, the surroundings began to crack and fall like the shards of glass in a stained glass window from which the saints had fled, until all was white. The white and me. I didn't know what to do, I grabbed my crayons and started doodling.
Cecilia Fofiu
She gently closed the door to the boys' room, all grown up now. She then entered their bedroom, watching them sleep peacefully. She unplugged the headphones he always fell asleep with, turned off the lamp and kissed him on the forehead. He mumbled back and turned away. In the kitchen a mug of warm milk was waiting for her. A moth was swirling madly around the chandelier, rhythmically shading the white ceiling. She turned off the light hoping it would save her from the unconscious suicide. In the dark she put the pills in the milk smiling. She knew what was to come. It started falling since yesterday.
(Translated by Adrian-George Ilinca / 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.