Driving School

Radu Gramatovici
Both hands on the steering wheel. There you go. Straighten your back. What are you doing? Are you in a hurry? Are you trying to kill us both? What's with that guy? Hey, idiot. Open the window. Open it and curse at him. Not like that. That's cursing? Tell the man: to hell with you. Louder. You'll never learn how to drive with that voice of yours. Now, why aren't you doing anything? Can't you see that everyone is getting in front of you? Honk the horn. Get yourself in there too. Don't let him. Don't let him. What a jerk. All jerks decided to drive their cars to town. Look, another one. You're doing nothing again? What a whimp. I'll never get why I agreed to pick you up.

Ana Maria Dobre-Nir
Right, left, right, left. Do you understand, kid? I told you right, left, right, left. You can breathe now. It's now how you remember it. This is another planet. You have to pick it up on the fly, otherwise they'll eat you alive. You have to be present, like a shark ready to attack. As soon as you smell blood, jump. Did you rest, are you ready? Do you really not get that I'm the one giving directions? Where are you looking at, girl? We dictate where the world is going. You're only an instrument. Enough, wipe your tears. To the right for god's sake.

Corina Nina
I walk down the stairs of the building my Porsche key in hand, the most stylish accessory I own. Let people say what they will, I made a lot of men happy in order to buy myself this jewel. Not like the psychologist from the 2nd floor who thinks she's too good for everyone, although cross my heart if I ever saw a happy man living out of her door. I adjust my seat, the mirrors, just like I was taught in driver's Scholl. I roll down the left window, and the sound of speeding cars fills me with joy. I take a selfie behind the wheel and vow to take the driver's exam again.

(Translated by Adela Neacșu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)


Real Fiction is a collective project started in 2013 by Florin Piersic Jr. The concept of Real Fiction continued to exist as a Facebook group, after a volume of stories was published at Humanitas Publishing House. (In January 2024, the group has 12,500 members.) The authors write ultra-short stories, with the texts limited to 500 characters (in Romanian, so the length of the English translation might be a little different) - a flash-fiction exercise on a topic that changes every few days. The group's coordinators are Florin Piersic Jr., Gabriel Molnar, Răzvan Penescu, Luchian Abel, and Vlad Mușat. (Drawing by Adrian T. Roman)

Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.