He had no clue whose that shirt under his bed was. He didn't dare ask her, because this would have built up a new bridge between them. However, he started keeping an eye on her, seeing her in a totally new light. As if she was no longer his. When he had bought the gun, he hadn't made up his mind yet, because, after all, she wasn't his possession. However, that phone call she received in the middle of the night, put him over the edge. The following morning, when he was ready to leave, she ran after him, unbuttoned his fly right there within all neighbours' sight. A lunatic.
Sanda Burță
What are you leaving behind? He grinned, looked at his old man with hatred and left. That question would haunt him for years until he could bear no longer. I spit on your house, what the big deal have you made in life, you kicked the bucket all alone, Toma would grumble while he was struggling to unlock the rusty gate. I am selling this and buy myself a studio. I might even get married. What are you leaving behind? Damned thought! He grabbed the spade and started digging in the muddy ground. I am planting a tree, take that! Like this, shirt unbuttoned, fluttering in the wind, a helpless bird.
Julia Sandu
Hanging by the sachets of mothballs, having lost their hope they would ever shine in the sunlight, the buttons wouldn't stop chattering, like caffeine-high parrots, they had gotten tired of being simple accessories on a discarded piece of polyester and decided to set themselves free from their sewn prison. They collectively unbuttoned themselves one by one, springing on the wooden floor like peas skittering on a plate, leaving behind their lifetime comrade on a hanger, feeling more stripped than a nudist at a knitting conference.
(Translated by Alina Roșu / 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.