This life, young one, is like a train station where we wait for the train to the other world, I tell the guy on the bench. At my age, I don't hold back from sharing what I've learned. And there's no one left at home. And this train, I say again, comes for each of us only when the Lord decides. Are you waiting for someone? No, the young man replied, I'm just watching the trains arriving into the station. He stood up and gave me a heavy yet bright look, like honey dripping from a hive: Your train will come soon; be patient. And he moved away with a flutter of wings.
Elena Fermuș
It took me over three hours to get ready. Curled lashes, ringlets, gloss on my lips, and then I zipped to the train station to wait for my prince. It's really hot outside, darling. Hard to breathe. Thankfully, I live close by. I tried to go into the waiting room for some AC. Obviously not. It was like a sauna with a whiff of, you know, chicken coop. And then, the announcement: the personal train from Slobozia is being delayed by an hour. I stepped out for a cold water bottle. Out of frustration, I didn't even notice the red light. When the guy whistled at me, I thought it was for a citrus fresh. Certainly not for a fine.
Mirela A. Nica
Too much reading makes you dull? Oh, absolutely. It was in the fall of 2010 when, after a seasonal job, I spent almost all the money from my last pay check on mountain gear and set off on a hike from Madrid to Canfranc, where I started my ascent. No, I wasn't hiking El Camino; I just wanted to get to the Pyrenees and spend a few days far away from civilization. My backpack weighed 28 kg. I gave up canned food so that a Rilke, an Evola, a Taschen, a book about runes, and some other stones could see what it's like at 2,000 meters.
(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)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.