In the first month, I hardly left the house at all. I spent the whole day lying on the couch, staring into space, aimlessly. I had no idea what to do with myself in this urban jungle. I forgot how to talk to people, how to laugh; I was startled by fireworks. I walked the streets hunched over, head down. Every night, I woke up sweating, disturbed by nightmares. No woman could stay with me; they all said I was strange. One even told me I wasn't a man at all. Tomorrow I'm returning to the front.
Sanda Burță
To the left, there were ducks under an olive tree. To the right, a stone house. In front, a road. I'm not looking back. Mantra. In Parga, the sun rises. An old woman sells sandals. Across the street, I eat fish. I massage the sores on my feet with oil. I slip and fall. Kalí týchi, the old woman laughs. I get up. Mantra. In Ammounas it's night. I take off my shoes and dip my feet in the waters of the Acheron. They say it flows into the Styx. I open my phone. Come home, daddy. The gym teacher said I should buy a bra because my breasts have grown. I'm good; I light candles at mom's grave. Are you coming?
Siranuș Hakobian
I'm leaving, he said, standing up from his desk, leaving behind a laptop, a phone, and the car keys. And off he went. I ran into him by chance after a year, in the heart of a mountain. He had a mud-brick room and smelled of poverty. The poor guy was unrecognizable, with rubber boots and cheeks red from the cold. Come back, I asked. I can't, I've just found my soul; it's there, at home, he pointed. I opened the door to see his soul, but inside was just a freshly born goat, with eyes wide in wonder.
(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)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.