Skull, decorative object in the office of my boss from Human Resources, has become the silent symbol of the company - yes, some come, some leave, nothing changes. Placed on the desk, Skull stared with a neutral expression at the long meetings about growing productivity and team spirit. Each employee knew that, in its own silence, Skull whispered the truth - work hard, because I was once a boss too. He was the only one who didn't roll his eyes at boss's jokes, the only one who knew the truth. And he lost its head. Literally.
Adriana Patroi Miu
There is no way: to cram all humankind's problems in a small mortal skull. You wish you had both educated children and a happy husband. You divide between job and housework, between piles of laundry and cleaning puddles. Then you want to be elegant and creative. And you brag about how much you like writing. You tell me that this is your dream. You are right, woman. It is a dream. And it will remain as such. It cannot be done without sacrifices. You miscalculated your priorities, artist. You are wrong, professor. A writer does not only write on papers. They share their work with everything they touch.
Siranuș Hakobian
The first signs became visible on the wedding day: small, round, I could barely feel them above the temporal bone. Then, when my wife was ready to give birth, my skull deformed terribly and two skeletal extensions grew above my ears. It did not hurt, but I could not put my hat on anymore so I went to see a doctor. No, said the doctor, you are a serious case of being a cuckold, but with a well done trephination I can help you get rid of the unwanted skull pieces. I did not accept the surgery: my wife said that it looks good on me.
(Translated by Diana Sitaru / 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.