I've known you since you were 15, your whispering would get on my nerves so terribly. You had no idea how to get my attention. In all fairness, you were going to work, in your shitty uniform, soiled from the first hour of the day. Electrician? Mechanic? Pfft. You peacock. Today we met again, in the passage. I was taking my kid to school. You? Just as proud, a bit cleaner. In 22 years I did not notice your eyes. Cerulean blue, striking, insolent. We stopped on the same step, played like mom and dad in one look. My heart is pounding, but you won't find out. Tsk.
Diana Cornea
When dad brushed his teeth, mom would toil away around the house and get us ready for school. In one hour, everything looked brand new. Dad would barely step out of the bathroom and we were gone. Morning routines. We grew up. Dad comes home in the evening, takes us out for a walk. Every two days. If he has the time. Every now and then, he brings some grub. Mom goes for walks. Looks at the sky. Every hour of every day, she shows me the clouds. It's like she's a kid again. Her jokes amuse us - she definitely doesn't lack sarcasm. I go to school, I can't wait for the future. But I won't fall in love. I won't bear any children.
Gheorghiță Mircea
My crumpled collar chokes me as I try to turn my neck and watch the window. I'm not allowed to open it and look beyond it. Mommy and daddy whispered about some lodgers who moved in right on the other side, and mom crossed herself and spat to ward off evil. On Sunday, as we were leaving for church, I saw her in the window. She waved to me, but, in an instant, I got pulled away and dad smacked me hard over the nape. It hurt, the shell is still thin, my metamorphosis is not yet finished.
(Translated by Andreea-Nicoleta Ban / 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.