Something wasn't right. He stopped the car and got out. The road stretched ahead, shaded by ancient walnut trees. He recognized the whisper of the wind through the leaves, but beyond that, it was too quiet. He scanned his surroundings, but the field was empty. Two birds circled somewhere beneath the clouds. He circled the car, his ears alert, checking carefully inside. He glanced under the car before getting back in. He gave a shrug and started the engine. Something was missing, but he wasn't sure what. When he got home, the phone rang. You left me at the gas station, you jerk.
Horațiu Dudău
I call from the road. On the right, Cristi is absent. I sit for a smoke, I'm in a rush, I tell him, I have to pay a few more visits while I'm here. Sucă, an A-boy, a former roommate in college, is also absent in the area. And Corina, the little girl on the second floor. And Ana. And Eva. It's getting dark. I keep calling. God, how many more to visit. The cemetery's practically a roll call. You call out the absentees. Today, at noon, I came to mark my father absent. I still call out for him, just like he used to call me during Math class.
Răzvan Dițescu
The day she was born, the day her first tooth came through, her first da-da, her first steps, the first day of kindergarten, the first time she cycled on her own, the hours of training, the competitions and Olympiads she took part in, the celebrations, the day she got admitted into college, her first heartbreak, the day she got married, the day she became a mother, all the name days, all of them I've watched from here. People call it Heaven, but I feel like I'm in Hell. You're alive. What's your excuse?
(Translated by Adela Neacșu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.