After fasting for so long out of necessity, he had been reduced to skin and bone, sharp bone wrapped in a wrinkly sheath. The red coat he'd received while impersonating Santa at a Macy's a long time ago now hung loose, fastened with a scarf acting as a makeshift belt. His white beard reached his chest, and he carried his sack filled with crumpled newspapers like a burden. He ambled among the hurrying passers-by. Those who recognized him offered a few coins. The others passed by uncaring. Only the eyes of the little beggars twinkled as they watched him with hope.
Carmen-Ecaterina Ciobâcă
I brought them down from the attic with the sack. There were books with yellowed pages, a record player whose music once filled my living room, a radio with flaps I used to listen to Radio Free Europe on, moth-eaten overcoats, Christmas tree lights with bad bulbs, parts of a Diamant TV, a suitcase made of brown oilcloth, unwound cassette tapes. A lifetime of memories. I hated the idea that someone might throw it all away after I'm gone. In the last box I found the little pink sandals that Cati wore when she was three in front of Unirea Shopping Center. I kissed them and wept.
Elena Fermuș
It happened on Christmas Day. Man, what should I do, what should I do? Reluctantly I thought, \'to hell with it, let's go to Paris for a bit.' I got all dressed up. My best coat, fox fur collar, a beret, high-heeled boots. Like a lady. But the jewel in the crown was by far the handbag. Bright red, like fire. And what do you think? Paris was full of evil people. And then I hear an old lady who was eyeing my bag: o, quel joli sac. Listen, granny, I said to her, who're you calling a peasant? You think I'd come to Paris with a sack? Sacks are for picking plums.
(Translated by Andrei-Bogdan Nicola / 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.