Two Women

Dan Banu
They did everything together - worked, rejoiced, suffered. Only at night the shadow detached itself from their feet and sneaked under the bed, hiding in a metal candy box until the next day at sunrise. At the eleventh hour, when they reached the gates of heaven, Saint Peter looked at them sternly. He motioned for the shadow to pass but pushed the other back to Earth. She snuck under clumps of mud, into a wooden box, waiting patiently for another life to reunite with her shadow.
 
 Horațiu Dudău
I silently enter the cold room. For the first time, I'm wearing a suit. The white shirt fits me perfectly, but I can't breathe. It's buttoned all the way up to the last button. The two of them are facing each other for the first time. They're neither crying nor screaming. They're looking down at me. I'm frozen in place. I loved her deeply. I loved the other one deeply too, but less. There seems to be a hint of satisfaction on their faces, which puzzles me. Simultaneously, smiling, they push me inside. I'm left forever with the impression that I might have done them a favor. Or at least the man who ran me over with the car did.

Carmen Ecaterina Ciobâcă
She slammed the door open, staggering. Her skirt was hitched up, and her chest buttons were unbuttoned. Her cheeks were smeared red. She ran her tongue over her cracked lips. A few of them stopped playing cards, watching her with interest. A sick grin blossomed on their faces. One took a swing and belched. Look at that, boys, one who comes alone for the taking. Their laughter made the windows rattle. They stopped when they saw her eyes, burning with the desire to kill. Take me instead, please. Give Katia back to me. She's too young, she's only ten.

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