Me in the white polka-dot dress, kissing you for the first time. Me, holding your hand in Cișmigiu. Me, cutting the cake with your hand placed over mine. Me, with all that white, sweet whipped cream all over my face. Me, just awake from my sleep. Me in the waves. Me with my snorkeling mask on. Me up to my neck in sand. Me, sweaty but happy. Me on skis. Me on our one-year anniversary. I loved you. You selected everything and hit delete.
Nicolae Popescu
Class of '94 is written, in glowing letters, beneath the painting in the great hall. They're in a booth next door. The music is loud, it's CC Catch, not Swift. He kisses her, she kisses him. They don't close their eyes, it's just like the first time. Hearts pounding loud, echoing. ' He says, what a nice video your man made out of the high school pictures. I almost cried. What a nice birthday cake your wife ordered. I almost threw up. I'm laughing. There it is, Lady in Red, our song. He opens the window, takes her by the hand, and they both step out into the night, with opened eyes.
Mediana Stan
Every feature stood out distinguishable, delicate, a clear, straight forehead, a slightly pointed tipped nose, long eyes, blonde eyebrows fading to her temples, her hair in curls lifted under a hat with a veiled, flexible brim that seemed to be part of her, slender, white fingers matching a stone earring; the sepia light nourished that ethereal beauty, nothing was unnecessarily laden with flesh. Ma'am, I recommend you enter with this photograph in the Miss Romania Contest; Grandma smiled, I have four children, sir.
(Translated by Andreea Cristina Moise / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.