When the rain stops and the sun breaks through the clouds, the child begins to run with his eyes to the sky. Through the apartment blocks, down the narrow streets, among the stalls in the wet markets. One day he went to his mother and told her he wanted to be an athlete, one of the best runners in the world. That's the only way I can catch the rainbow one day, he said determinedly. Years later, he became a painter. On his canvases he captured all the colours of the earth. He sometimes looks at the rainbow to remember how well he once ran through the apartment blocks.
Laura Stanciu
Madam Ionescu was 95 years old. She had been in fierce competition with her neighbour Popescu, who was about the same age, all her life. That day, they were both scheduled to visit the doctor. Madam Popescu arrived on the ground floor in her elegant trolley, pushed by her daughter. Madam Popescu was already in front of the block, with her Nepalese nurse, who was manoeuvring her trolley. After the usual talk about medicine, they set off for the clinic. Madam Ionescu whispered to her daughter, Hurry up, Zoe, don't follow them.
Sorin Rizeanu
I turned on the TV and cracked open a beer. Let's see who's playing Barça in the final and remember you. Dad, after 12 hours at work, you gave up sleep to stay with me. You bald, joking little Machiavelli with a Dacie car. In winter I used to sneak into that red wreck every day to listen to the radio, I couldn't bear to see you in hospital. The snow melted with you. For all my failures I blame only you, I curl up on the old sofa and look for your armpit. It's one-zero for Real Madrid, Dad, one-zero.
(Translated by Iulia-Mihaela Țugulea / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.