In the morning, he took a shower, called his hairstylist to style his hair and beard according to the latest trends, enjoyed a hearty breakfast, ate with gusto, put on his usual Tobacco Vanilla perfume, dressed elegantly, and asked for today's newspaper. He read the main article. Then he read a joke and laughed out loud. When security arrived, he picked one- the most handsome of them. In the hall, he didn't even glance at the faces filled with hatred and horror staring at him through the glass. When the needle delivered the first lethal dose, he was still smiling at the subtle twist of the joke.
Iusein Givan
He wrapped the remains of his lunch in the aluminium foil his wife used for packing food, rolled his eyes around the workshop, toward the wheels of the printing press, which he always said was like a mill of words. He would miss the little workshop where he had spent half his life. The other half awaited him starting today, the day he had his last lunch at the print shop. He caressed the box of letters, some worn, others lost in a sea of memories, and heard Vasile, the guard, calling out: Come on, uncle Grigore, I'm closing up.
Daniela G. Pătrașcu
She didn't like to read, but the title caught her eye. She moved closer, snatched the newspaper, and ran off. Around the corner, on a bench, she read it. A 22-year-old girl, addicted to heroin, had suffocated her mother, who had fallen asleep, exhausted after watching over her during withdrawal for a week. Then she took her mother's last money and bought a dose of heroin. If she could do that, why couldn't I? the girl asked herself. It wasn't even the first time she had lied to her mother. What wouldn't she do for a few coins? And so she headed home, lost in thought.
(Translated by Andreea Maria Liceanu / 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.