The train arrives late. We commuters always meet in the same compartment. Nelu and Mărie are in front of me. He pulls out the Adevărul newspaper, a piece of bread, lard, onions. She eats sunflower seeds from a cone and reads from the prayer book. The newspaper is multipurpose, I use it when I wash the windows. I'm hungry and the smell of onions takes away the smell of train, greasy, cracked oilcloth stitched by an coroner. Nelu finishes, wipes his hands against the curtains with the CFR[1]-logo and pulls out a tiny radio. Radio România Actualități.
[1] CFR - Romanian National Railway Company.
Aurelian Țolescu
Around 03:00 o'clock, it was always my time to receive news on etheric media, image and sound, transposed into dreams that appeared during deep sleep. That's how the Universe always communicated bad news to me. When I was somewhere far away from the country, I dreamt that my father was mocking a surgeon doctor from his bed, who was threatening him with a scalpel. The next day he wasn't. Three months later I dreamt that my childhood landline rang, I picked up and heard my mother's voice for the last time telling me: Bye mom, Bye.
Laura Stanciu
Olga dropped the bucket and took the phone out of her pocket. The nurse on the fourth floor invited her to the office for coffee. She sent an emoticon with toilet paper. I'll be there as soon as I can. I've still got the old ladies. Five women's rooms and almost all the patients had to be escorted to the bathroom and helped to the shower. Carried dirty lingerie to the laundry in white bags and deposited contaminated lingerie in yellow bags. After finishing the cleaning on the floor, she left the shift. You're coming this late? What took you so long? You missed the news.
(Translated by Andreea-Daniela Vasilache / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.