He eyed her up from the moment she entered the bar. Redhead, long legs, firm flesh: Hello, beautiful, can i buy a tequila? The chick blinked with her turned-up lashes. I'm scoring tonight too, he thought. What's your name? Vera, she said and he snapped out of it. Vera, his wife, smiled, missing two teeth: You slept well, had nice dreams, you were smiling. Drink your mint tea and come on, the news is airing. Damn it, she's even stealing my dreams now. Mint, can you believe it? I'll go, take a swig of whiskey from the oil bottle in the pantry, lie down in the other room and maybe do something with Vera, the redhead.
Marinela Trifan
Chitară[1] became a taxi driver, he only plays sometimes, if he's drunk or if he's boxing Camelia's ear out of anger for leaving his wife and kids. He cries for them, she screams that she hooked up with a sensitive musician like himself. The whole basement vibrates until morning. He stops mourning; it's time to hit the streets to make some money. He won't drive today, he's hangover and sad. He returns in the evening, with his eyes shining. He swears he'll love her more, he won't play anymore and as proof, he announces that he's just sold his guitar.
Denisse Oana Rădoi
At first it was gross. On that night, your feet smelled of unwashed socks and your kiss tasted like lean meat. I decided to not be superficial and to overcome this first impulse. Even though your presence disgusted me, I chose to ignore it. With all the alarms set on silence, I let you caress my eyebrows, then my mouth, then my whole body. Back then, I didn't know you would enter my soul and remain there for several decades, until I rediscovered my healthy boundaries.
(Translated by Maria-Ilinca Darie / 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.