He was growing euphoric. Spring had come, he lived for this time of the year. When the pictures of magnolias invaded the social networks, he knew it was the time to clean out the world of boring people, to cut down on the clichés. He would kill some random people as well, just to cover up his tracks. He didn't touch friends or friends of friends. They were too close to him and he risked getting caught. He allowed the ones who photographed other flowers to live, and to Lina, who only had photos of wild weeds, he knew he'd get married.
Ana Maria Dobre-Nir
This city is pretty to me. Maybe it's also because I find pieces of my youth on every street. On this corner I kissed him. In that alley I got scared by a dog. I've cried here, I've laughed there. No, I'm not saying it's perfect, but it is full of life, noisy, crowded. And it really has a special something during spring. We're too critical of it, maybe even mean. I take one last look back, while taking a bite out of a cherry pie. A pink petal falls on my forehead.
Cecilia Fofiu
I get the donuts ingredients out, put on the coffee pot and I wait. For Magnolia, my neighbour with the milk, like we've talked. I light up a cigarette, drink a cup of coffee, then another one. I'm dizzy already. In the doorway, the sun blinds me. Slightly annoyed, I head up to her house. House is empty, chickens are bored. Lăbuș is watching a cat. I call out for her. A sheep answers. From the corner of my eye I think I see my husband, running up the street and jumping into his car. I'm seeing things, he's at work, I tell myself. A crash. Am I hallucinating? Little Magnolia's in her nightgown with straws in her hair. I took a nap in the attic, she apologizes.
(Translated by Raluca Sălcianu / 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.