The man in the lab coat turned on the light and unveiled the new body. He came closer and carefully examined it. It belonged to a person in her thirties. The tegument presented admirably and the stiffness was gone. At first glance, no lesions were visible. Four words were written on the paper sheet near the body. He bent down and meticulously searched the ankle, the calf, the thigh with his lips wandering between the pelvic bones over and over again. The woman giggled: you tickle me. And you should hurry up. The man didn't hold up his study: he'll be a good guard.
Carmen-Ecaterina Ciobâcă
I would find the majority of them in unnatural, inert positions, with their faces pressed to the floor and their bottoms raised or with their legs spread obscenely wide. The sight gave me the creeps, and so I would turn them with their face up or pull their stiff legs together. They all had a glassy stare, lacking expression, which haunted me even in my dreams. One day I found one with an ugly cut on its forehead. How did you do that, I screamed. I could have been dangerous. I did a brain surgery, she answered me. I have already told you I want to become a doctor when I grow up.
Corina Nina
All my childhood I tried to be invisible. I didn't want to be the daughter of the man who wandered on seven paths and sang Awaken Thee, Romanian at midnight. I didn't want to be the girl the world pitied. I didn't want to be at all. My body granted my wish and stopped growing at around twelve years old. One metre, point thirty. The doctors searched me on all sides, but they never understood why I stopped growing up. I wished I had told them that science cannot provide us all the answers. But invisible people can't talk.
(Translated by Irina Vild / 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.