Not many people would name a tree, but she did. She had planted it in her grandparents' backyard when she was just a little girl, and ever since, the little cherry tree has blossomed with her. It was there when her grandparents died. She held him in her arms and hid her tears in its branches when she suffered her first heartbreak. Right next to it she wept with joy when she got her first job, and you could see how both human and tree blossomed together. Today, they will cut it down to make the most beautiful coffin. Together, forever.
Răzvan Drăgoi
His first girlfriend was from a religious sect. In the bedroom, she'd interrupt him asking if he had five minutes to talk about the Lord. His second girlfriend had cheated on him with the plumber, who briefly asked: who did your work around here? The third was a radical environmentalist, refusing to consume the planet's water and soap resources. The fourth did everything according to the horoscope, energies, fengshui, aikido, bushido, avocado. At last, out of revenge, he got himself a Japanese girlfriend and, under the cherry blossoms, ate her up with yogurt.
Carmen-Ecaterina Ciobâcă
Her silhouette was traced in the pale light of the sunset. Dressed in her yukata, she had let her hair down in anticipation of the night to come. With tense fingers, she painted flowers that blossomed pink. Then buds, leaves, branches. The lines made the canvas tremble. She refined her work by adding a few veins. Just like you taught me, Sensei. To draw. This time not with my tongue. Not on men's bodies in Kabukichō. She put down the stiletto, took out the gag. With a yelp, the man with the cherry blossom between his shoulder blades fell to the ground.
(Translated by Andreea Georgiana Bogdan / 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.