She raised the seat, lowered the sun visor and looked for a favourable position. She feared riding in the sun more than driving at night, but she had no choice. She preferred the old road, through villages with flowers at the gates and customers drinking beer early in the morning at the doors of miserable taverns. She didn't take hitchhikers, she wanted to be alone, to leave all her dark thoughts on the asphalt. Three weeks and the biopsy would come. The road was turning and the light was in her eyes now. She spotted the dog, slammed into the truck, and the sun suddenly went out in a screech of brakes.
Răzvan Dițescu
The last memories imprinted in his mind were the storm, the huge waves, the sinking sailboat and the fact that it was swallowing water, lots and lots of water. The storm passed and calm settled over the sea. Two seagulls were circling in the azure sky, and he was floating without any issue now. He didn't even have to flap his arms or legs. The sea would carry him ashore. He arrived, a week later. They found him one morning, lying on the beach, a pair of scarlet sockets on a face lit by a long-set sun.
Iulia Stavre
The solitary moon was hiding among the clouds in the night sky. When it appeared, it reflected, a diamond cast into the sea. Immigrants crept along the narrow beach, shadows huddled on a boat. Mom, stay here, take care of the house. As soon as we get settled on the other side, we'll send someone for you. Grandma was worn by sickness and worry like the bombed earth. The emptiness of the deserted house, the dry tears on pale cheeks. Only she and God remained. With the sun in her eyes, she looked at the sea every day. A sign would be enough.
(Translated by Oana-Elena Dragnea / 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.