The Scale

Titela Durnea
It's drizzling. The grey moisture coils around my shins. The scent of young soul pulls me out of bed. I quickly put on my robe. I go downstairs, sniffing. The kettle whistles. Two slices of bread pop out of the toaster. I startle, then laugh at my own fear. Through the window, I see the old rocking chair, swaying. Is it the wind blowing? I step out onto the terrace. I breathe deeply. I realize that the smell is coming from here. I run back to the bedroom, rip the anchor from my chest, and hide it under the blanket. I left some years for you on the nightstand. I took my heart. Don't wait for me.
 
 Ionuț Tuhoarcă
I was sitting on the throne, singing a little song. I saw a spider hanging by a thread. I thought, I won't kill it. It's a living creature too. It has a family. Kids. Bank instalments. And guess what the critter does? It loses its balance and falls on my leg. It gets scared. It Bites me. Anaphylactic shock. Ambulance. Life flashing before my eyes like an opera show. A light. Wait a bit more. A doctor tells me. A cute doctor explains to me. A blonde doctor. Mr. Con Man, if you hadn't reached us in time, you would have died. Ah, what luck.

Diana Cornea
Samuel wasn't allowed to go to school. He would wake up early and watch the other children from behind the smeared window. His mother had prepared tea and toast. Samuel would climb onto the bench and bite into the bread, sip the hot tea, and his cheeks would turn rosy. He would take the stuffed in the fence newspaper and carefully syllabized the words. He was four years old. He counted year by year until he reached thirty: if God exists, he will seek him out. Life is better in pairs. Even if, on the wire, you sometimes feel unbalanced because one is a bit more smarter, and you, somehow, have a rather large heart.

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