Hello, Luci, what's up, boss? Ah, you're looking over the gas bills. Well, weren't we using wood? Okay, you got modern boilers to keep up with the times, cool. I'm doing well. Today, I only caused trouble. I stirred up conflict between two guys; they ended up throwing some nasty comments at each other on Facebook, it was a slaughter. Another guy suffered so much when his wife caught him giving hearts to another girl that he decided to delete his Instagram account. I've met my part for this month. Alright, I have to hang up, my battery's dying. Damn, here we go again.
Florentina Enache
Come on, babe, are you in? Where, in what? In whatever you want and can fit, but I'll give more details until we meet. Whoa, nice approach; but what are we doing here, just wasting time on the tram-excuse me, the metro-so we don't waste time on foreplay, or is this your idea of optimizing the relationship? What are we doing? Sexting, of course. Isn't that how we sparked each other? Babe, I'm going to conserve battery because I've got fifteen percent left. Keep the passion alive. Speaking of alive, grab some wine. The good red stuff, okay? Don't be stingy, darling, I'll send you pictures now. Of what? Of the label.
Elia Ghinescu
At that time, I lived in a pink house on the shore. At dawn, I would have breakfast and run to the sea. It tasted good, the water never stung your eyes, and you could go anywhere without having to swim. When I came out, I would pick up a shell from the ground and put it to my ear to hear the waves. But every time I heard a voice saying, 'My name is Ela, I am ten years old and I am dead.' All the shells said the same thing. And the wind moaned like a suffering man who could never die. Then I would return home, with the rain hitting my chest.
(Translated by Miruna Baicu / 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.