That wretched hour has long swallowed me and is mincing me silently in manic minutes. My nerves are blocked by undissolved Xanax. My thoughts have become white cartilage chewed on by a rat that had entered me through a Sunday. I relax daily, hanging by the alarm clock's second that wakes me suddenly and ruthlessly. I take my brake pill, in order not to slip into the abyss between me and the world. The breakfast burns as a great disappointment. I chew on the rock-like omelette and curse the gums that would never sprout baby teeth again.
Ana Maria Vaida
She focuses on her breathing, and on a stain on the ceiling. She knows it will take just a little and that it's necessary to have this check-up. Come just a bid towards me. She leans on her arms and pushes her pelvis forward. It doesn't hurt, it's just a cold intrusion, an unpleasantly foreign one. You're tense, I cannot collect a good sample. I don't think you would want us to repeat the procedure. Of course, she does not, once a year is enough. She looks at her tanned thigh and calf, with her foot suspended unnaturally. She's hearing the waves, she feels the breeze, and the sun's warmth. It's burning. You can get dressed.
Andra Toropoc
I am tensing up under the palms that are pressing on me. What's up, then, will we behave or not? And the woman rammed her fist into my back. Maybe I shouldn't have come here, but I needed a massage badly, however, these hands are merely roughing me up, I cramp up, I squeal, and I cock my head up. Next to me, there are the woman's cruel eyes, I've told you to stop moving, she yells and forces my head back down. A curt sound and a jolt of pain, then the raspy voice, see, doll? I've told you you can bear it. I stumble in a haze, and I cannot feel anything.
(Translated by Francisc Csiki / 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.