The birds are chirping, the snowdrops boldly pop up from the group, love is in the air, and I'm alone under the blanket. I get out of bed, shower, dress up, and leave. Outside, two young people are hugging each other. I ignore them and keep walking. On the bus, a couple is kissing fervently. I look away. Will I ever experience this again? Two dogs are mating near a tree. Eeenough! I start running through the park. Then I sit on a bench, take out my phone and create a Tinder account. A man sitting on another bench does the same thing.
Cecilia Fofiu
Grandma's smalls hands handle everything gently. The handkerchief, us, an apple. These hands handed me a present wrapped in a napkin, apologizing that the original wrap had been damaged. A palm-sized star with the colours imprinted on it and the words winner takes it all. She advised me to hide it lest the people laugh at me. She said she operated an overhead crane, a heavy-duty machine that was, without disrupting the production line, and so he found the love of her life, unlike us, who find it on Tinder. The medal is on the desk, in my office.
Aurelian Țolescu
Back in the 90s, Tinder service was provided by one's near and dear. In the spring of '94, my boss came to me: Hey, Țoli, are you planning to loaf around your little thing forever? I'll introduce to a nice girl, wife material. My pride said no. I didn't even try. Years passed, I went through a couple of marriages, good things, other less so. Now, after 30 years, I'm still loafing around, a fish out of water, and I don't feel at all like signing in on a matrimonial portal.
(Translated by Bogdan Macarie / 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.