I wake up. I can't make out the time, Lorca's backwards star clock has gone limp, omelette-like, over the edge of the bedside table. I rub my eyes, the only one I have but I have an excess of nipple noses. I want to get out of bed, but I see I've been sleeping on top of a pillar without a ladder. In the desert. From downstairs, a curly-haired Andalusian dog barks at me. What should I do? I have only the option of offering my sincere condolences. I know, it sounds silly, but I shouldn't get attached to such ephemeral things as life. I'm going to a place of peace and green grass.
Roxana Catana Tarhon
When he was little, Mirel used to go to football instead of school. He met his wife there too. He also wanted a wedding on the stadium; luckily his in-laws objected (the bride, 7 months pregnant, was happy to have someone take her). When his son was born, he gave drinks to everyone on the stadium. Lucky for him it was just practice, and the athletes, with the coach present, only drank water. Now for another trick: he says he wants to be buried in the middle of the National Arena. Well, what if we put him in some random cemetery, do you think he'll know?
Bogdan Mihai Bati
Put this cap on your head. I know you don't like to wear a hat, but trust me, you need one on the stadium, I explained to my wife. I took the shape of a T when I went through security, and then returned to my normal shape. I knew my seat in the stands when I went alone, but for today's game I got tickets far away from the gallery. We sat down and pulled out the seeds. One kept on spitting on my back, my wife whispered to me, so as not to disturb. Be grateful that I made you wear that cap.
(Translated by Andreea Cristina Moise / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.