Sabbatical

Nicolae Popescu
Vera and Pricop sit on the balcony in rocking chairs. The coffee in the cups is steaming. Prichi says: How well we got along, Vera. She nods: Yeees. After almost thirthy years, we're back to square one. Pric nods: Well, not really, time has passed, especially for you. Why don't you cook without using oil, without salt? And let's go out to the park every day. And I'll take a year off from my husbandly duties, I'm really tired. Vera takes a sip of coffee: Prichi, you've been taking this year off for ten years. It's a good thing Panfil hasn't moved out.

Andra Toropoc
Since his flower-power years he had dreamed of touring the world in a trailer, hanging flowers in his hair and singing. To make love, not war. When his children and grandchildren grew up and didn't need him anymore, he decided to follow his plan, pulled the van out of the garage and headed west. His bald head gleamed in his rear-view mirror, but he had a flower in his ear and his beloved harmonica in his pocket. As for love, he was doing well, had laid down his weapons and he was enjoying the 1,000 years of peace, the first of which had just begun. No, he hasn't made it to Woodstock, he's still on his way.
 
 Paul Dârvariu
Last night we celebrated 6 years together. The beginning was OK: candles, champagne, cake. Unfortunately, the ending wasn't the same. I bit the bullet and asked for a break for a year. I told her the daily routine was killing me: take the girls to kindergarten, do the laundry, cook dinner. I want to make my dream come true, a world tour on roller skates. I'm just sorry I'm making her miss out on sex. She smiled and opened her purse. What I saw in there terrified me so much, I forgot to ask for her card PIN code.

(Translated by Andreea-Daniela Vasilache / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)