The Only Thing That Matters

Cecilia Fofiu
The sewing machines aligned in three rows clatter loudly in the vast workshop. Only during the lunch break they become silent, as the workers unwrap their lunch, blinking their tired eyes from the neon light. Only two of them step outside for a cigarette, whispering to each other. From the way you've been looking at him, you're not done with the boss yet, a married man, Lena scolded her, coughing because of the smoke she inhaled. It's not the case. He loves me, and he'll divorce, and that's all that matters, the first one mutters, blushing deeply, staring at the door through which Viorica exits, a little disheveled.
 
 Eduard Baranovski
Being in tenth grade is great. You have classmates with carré haircuts, teachers with short dresses and elegant manicures, your pimples start to disappear, the stray hairs under your nose turn into a moustache, and you get cool assignments for essays. You express your point of view like adults, you have an opinion of your own, and you picture yourself smiling from the back of a book. There's always one who uses words only he knows and thinks he's a suicidal genius, but you laugh yourself to tears and you live for him too. Did I tell you that the Romanian teacher has a dress like Audrey Hepburn's?

Ramona Ungureanu
A ray of sunshine tickled my nose, God, the sun was out, it wasn't so bad here under the bridge, I was sheltered from the wind. I lay down on my side with one hand under my head, the grass had frosted and it looked old, like me. I gently caressed them with the tips of my fingers and told them they were beautiful and alive, not to let anyone tell them otherwise. When I raised my eyes, I saw how my life, wearing those good moccasins, passed calmly beside me, heading south, and then I knew why I was naked-they had taken it from me, the bastards.

(Translated by Laura-Monica Doroiman / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)