I didn't go to driving school. Not that I was supposed to. Once, I crashed into a ravine with a Matiz. After, we all ran off. Ihad gone fishing with Spadeand other friends. Spade, that's his name. Not to mention that he does have a spade to dig bait up with. The boys call me Doveins, from Do you still have veins. One of those questions, you know. I once threw Bitey in the water dressed. Fish bite for him. But Tutica told me casually, if you come with these drunkards home again, you can kiss it goodbye.
Marilena Demian
This school is not for everyone. A pack of Kent, a bottle of Johnny and there's a chance. Not now, maybe in autumn. In autumn, oh, it will be harder, but I can't miss such an opportunity. The instructor watches me with a critical eye. Have you ever laid your hands on a steering wheel before? Pull that chair, so you can fit in properly. Don't go in that intersection, if you don't know who has the right of way. When you overtake watch in the mirror what you overtook. This is all I remember from his words. Oh, and the too loud whisper to his colleague. What on earth is she doing here, so heavily pregnant?
Iulia Vîși
Sometimes the roads are too long for stops. She was driving out of inertia, eyes full of anger, fog headlights on and a bottle of prosecco by her side.She had left in a hurry, without fighting back, only a mink coat over her nakedness. He had made sure she was dressed in bruises. At the end of the abuse, the ritual was simple. She would go driving. She would stop at the station in which the artist had been looking for inspiration. She would open the door and would invite him in the back seat. She would listen to his touch and poetry, going back home with betrayal between her teeth.
(Translated by Ema-Teodora Rădulescu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by prof dr. Nadina Vișan, edited by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.