Mbombo is sad. He holds Tincuța in his arms on the couch and he opens up to her: Since coming Congo, don't feel well. People looks me the wrong way when holds hand yours on street. Father yours said stay away from you. Only mummy Vera good, help me. Tincuța pats his belt and comforts him: Don't worry about it, I know what we have to do. I'll teach you how to dance the Sârba and to sing out loud Mother birthed me oltean. And one more thing which demands a lot of training: stop dropping under the table after the first glass of homemade wine.
Andra Toropoc
They took her from the airport, the children kissed her awkwardly, they quickly got in the car and they stayed silent. And her husband stayed silent, he hugged her quickly remarking her hanging skin. She felt hurt, he hadn't complimented her in a long time, ever since she left to work far away. He was paying attention to the road and he didn't see the message he received, but she read it clearly: drop her home and come back, I'm feeling hot and bothered baby. She asked him who that is. He looked at her coldly like she was a stranger messing up his life. And I wanna know what love is was playing on the radio.
Roxana Catana Tarhon
I ended up here by chance. I would love to make new friends but these ones are so different. Some always have sharp tongues; others are always stingy. They poke me nonstop. They're edgy for no reason; they hurt me with their way of being. They brag about having seen the country far and wide. Sure, as if I didn't know that when the masters go on vacation they eat in their room? Nobody makes soup at the bed and breakfast. Oh, how should I draw this halfwit's attention because he put a spoon in the knives and forks rack?
(Translated by Jessica-Polixenia-Cristiana Copilaș / 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.