Baloney

Horia Uifăleanu
When you are ten years old you want two slices of baloney. When you are twenty, it is normal to want two rooms instead of one, and at thirty, if it hasn't happened already, you make plans for a second car. At forty you want two bathrooms. At fifty it is almost mandatory to wish for two vacations a year. At sixty you want two wardrobes. At seventy you want two lives. At eighty you want four coffins; two of them are for rent. At ninety you want two slices of baloney.

Carmen-Ecaterina Ciobâcă
The window from 8th floor is a gateway to the sky. Beyond it, birds are shearing in the wind, airplanes are roaring, clouds are travelling. The world, as they knew it, was left on the ground. Corporate absentees, parents pulling their children by the hand, drivers swearing at other drivers, car horns and dust. On the other side, time has stopped. A white wall. A table on which boxes and small bottles stand in line. Next to them, on a plate, a long-forgottenpat of butter and a pink slice. In the white bed, the big and the small girl are counting the clouds. Don't cry, mother, I'm already feeling better.
 
 Yuka Brevi
I admit that I didn't have the money, but I couldn't let her go. She was too beautiful and smelt like mockorange. I knew she was the one from the first time I laid eyes on her. I gave her a grin, and, as whores do, I unbuttoned the first button from my shirt. I held the door for her. Do you live in this block of flats? On the same staircase? I called the elevator. How? On the same floor as me? I was all sweating, I unbuttoned one more button. We are neighbours, do you want to see how the South-oriented apartments look? She said yes. I gave her PET beer, baloney and Dijon mustard. She was pleased that I did not let her go.

(Translated by Carmen Badea / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)