I've been writing on this explanatory note for two hours. The lawyer told me to put down everything in detail and to justify my despicable deed. I've explained how for ten years I kept greeting Sir Director without receiving any response. I've explained how I decided not to greet him anymore and how once I put my decision into practice, the lawyer asked me to write this explanatory note. Sir Director, after reading the note, tore it angrily into small pieces: get out of here, you're being disrespectful. I hope he doesn't cut my salary.
Corina Nina
my letter to Santa Claus in the dim light of the bulb. I'm trying not to make noise, not to wake up my dad who is sleeping at the kitchen table. I've always had two dads. One is the best dad in the world. The other is the drunkard of all drunkards and the most selfish dad in the world. That is in the whole building, in the street, in the neighbourhood, that's how large the world is for a 12-year-old. I've never been able to tell which one of them comes home, and waiting is the worst thing and it hurts. Dear Santa Clause, I want nothing more from you but to take my dad away. Whichever one, it's the same person.
Silvia Ștefan
Fed up with work, Grandpa slams the gate and hurls his hoe. His hand is bleeding from the dried mud on his wrist. Give us, Lord, a heavier rain. He sighs and tears off his old shirt a swathe of fabric to bandage his cracked skin. Silvi, bring him a piece of paper and the carpentry pencil right away. It just came to me why the roof is leaking. Give Grandpa that piece of paper, I shall sketch it quickly otherwise it would slip my mind. Is the water for polenta boiling yet? The girl nods and admires the skilful hand and the trail of blood. Let's make a list now. How many rafters do we need?
(Translated by Bogdan Macarie / 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.