Stories to Be Read at the Train Station

Florina Hegedüs
In front of the train station, I'm greeted by the group I'll be traveling with. It's night time. At dawn, we set off. People come and go all the time, just like in life. We linger in the waiting room. A few from the group are solving crosswords, while others listen to music in their headphones. I open my book with its torn pages. Anna's adventures have taught me lessons. I reread the ending. It's good, but it really can't replace my life. I flip through the pages randomly, my elbows resting on my huge suitcase. I hope that by the time we reach Istanbul, my Vronsky won't smell too bad.
 
 Ina Moldoveanu
Damn these trains. Always on strike. Hey girl, stop stressing over boring stories written by all those clueless folks who don't even get what they've written. Listen to me here. Me and my Bombonica, we're like one of those epic love stories, full of love, intrigue, sex, everything you want. I'm from Bucharest, no doubt about it. I wasn't homeless, but I got a lot of love for money, under the trees. And that's how I make cash. She's got good pedigree, everyone's all over her. Even the neighbour. Yeah girl, why are you wide-eyed? He's a zoologist, but the wife doesn't know. Oh look, here comes the train.

Eduard Baranovski
Mornings were sleepy and the subway was crowded. I taught English to second and third graders. I would hop around the low benches, sometimes wondering who the kid was. Now, fully grown, I teach in the afternoons at King's College, near the emerald temple, and in the evenings, I have business classes for corporations. Dressed in a wool suit and silk tie, I leave for lunch in my silver Lexus. But it'll never be like those mornings when I used to hear, "Mister Johnnyyy." The only 5 years of my life when I felt young again.

(Translated by Eduard Mihai Uretu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)