I'm a mess like any woman who truly respects herself. In fact, the problem isn't me, but all these sausages parading around me, hoping that we'll get to a second course. Take it easy, guys, you've got plenty of reheated soups at hand, just leave me out of it. Lately, I find them in my private messages too. Who, you ask? The sausages. I need to figure out how these Messenger settings work; I told you I am a mess. Luckily, I'm toughened up. That's it for today. My kids are waiting at home, and they won't forgive you if you leave them hungry.
Monica Ciurea
After the first child, I was left with the extra pounds, and you with your job. I was breastfeeding and ironing your shirts while you were off on business trips. I already had sagging breasts and dark circles under my eyes, while you turned your back to me in your half of the bed, pleased with your professional ascent. I wore slippers; you wore a tie, staying late at meetings. I was like a shadow waiting for you. Put on some cream, you told me one day in that tone. Can't you see yourself? I made order in my life and pampered myself. You're raising the second one, I said, perched on my stilettos.
Tavi Tone
I don't know about others, but I quite enjoy wandering aimlessly. Once, I left for Italy with nothing but the clothes on my back and a fanny pack. They almost didn't let me board the plane. How could I not have any luggage? But what about the fanny pack? Do they think I'm carrying a bomb? I'll admit, I was a bit unshaven, and my shirt was slightly untucked. Next to me, a young lady grabbed my hand during take-off. She begged me insistently to slap her if she fainted, she was terrified of flying. I may be a mess, but still, I thought, why not wake her with a kiss instead? She slapped me.
(Translated by Claudia Garofina Greculeac / 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.