I lead them, I take them, from the school, to the piano or violin lessons. Honks, swearing. Set the table, clear the table, clear the dishes, load the card. Read the story, put them to sleep. Take the bike and pedal to the kindergarten. Lay out the clothes, put other clothes in. Iron them. Run to football, or to swimming. Today is painting day, tomorrow is ballet. Check homework, cook dinner, wash them. I sneak a glass of prosecco, a cookie and lock myself in the bathroom. A hand under the door, a nose pressed against the window, but I'm allowed five minutes to savour the end of my day. So-lo.
Andra Toropoc
At the confectionery I dedicate myself a cake, I stick a candle in it, I light it and I whisper myself happy birthday. I pause, I take a breath to blow, and I hear a thin voice, who shall live, who shall live. A little boy stood clinging to the fence across the street, I got up, he started to run away scared, but my smile reassured him. What's your name? He didn't answer and his look was prayerful and hungry. I handed him the cake and I thanked him for the little song. In the evening I sent a text to my daughter from America. I had a guest for my birthday.
Ana Maria Dobre-Nir
In the middle of the circle lies a sleepy girl. She has red hair and freckles all over the face. Near her a distinctive cat is eating a mouse. From the circle a magnifying glass stretches out towards you, through which memories are mirrored in a present where you don't want to be. Life isn't chronology, the cat whispers to the little girl while a faint echo of deja vu reaches you. May God forgive our sins, an old woman can be heard who can not be seen by anybody, because she exists only in the future that you don't want to think about.
(Translated by Mihaela Stănilescu / 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.