I pull myself together and close my eyes. I think about how Paul had always been in my life, ever since I was a little girl and he came to visit from Austria, rarely, but every time he brought me something, then on holidays we spent together, because he and my mother are good cousins and I had made friends with his daughters, and especially two winters ago, when he helped me get over the horrible break-up with the man I had been married to for ten years. I hear a chuckle and open my eyes. In front, on the bed, a lump of a man laughs at me, just like his father Paul.
Dan Banu
The girl was as pale as a candle, as thin as a skinny person and as long as a stick, two heads taller than the short, gaunt man, whose belly was excessively large compared to the rest of his scrawny body. For a while they had been doing well on the freeway, then the freshies came and their time was up. They slowly pushed them towards the flames of the ghetto, Colentina, Rahova, Ferentari neighbourhoods. Uncle, not a single coin came out today. Forget it, girl, we'll steal some corn from the pigeons and boil some dandelions. Tomorrow will be lucky.
Cristian Nedelcu
After his release from prison he changed his name. He tried to forget. He thought less and less about the abuse he had been subjected to, and especially about the brute who had been his cellmate. He'd moved far away, but he'd been lucky. He found himself in a mountain village with good, God-fearing people. They all loved him. That evening he had prepared himself properly, he was going to visit Ioana's parents. When he saw him, he froze. This is Sandu. He came from Bucharest. He's my mother's brother.
(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.