She was stunned. People were shouting at her. Someone was calling 112. How could you do this? In her revealing swimsuit, she was the center of attention at the pool - but not in the way she wanted. No one was in awe of the curves she had tried to immortalize in her photo. She had searched for the perfect light, smiled into her phone, convinced she was the local diva, and ignoring the little girl's voice calling her repeatedly to come into the water. A nuisance, just like her father, she thought, proud of her selfie. The commotion of people pulling a tiny body from the water snapped her back to reality.
Ana-Maria Butuza
She woke up looking at herself differently, as if she were a stranger. As she brushed her teeth, she pointed the toothbrush at the woman in the mirror.You checked everything off the list, right? Oh, a family. Not that. But you never even wanted one. And look - some gray hairs. Forget them, they can be dyed over. A few wrinkles.You can hide them with makeup. A husband? You can still find one, plenty hover around you. If not for love, at least for money. A child? Not possible anymore. Adopted? Wouldn't be your blood. Damn you and your money. They'll bury you with them.
George Dometi
I lifted my head, and the cemetery's scent filled me. I was six years old. I covered my mouth and walked toward the gate. A cart trundled up the street, people tossing into it bodies they'd gathered from the ditches. Under a cypress, a faceless girl begged - mute, deaf, like God. People built houses that now lie crumbled. They dressed in velvet and brocade, and now lie naked in shrouds. They feasted on fine delicacies, and now they serve as food for worms. Peace is the priority.
(Translated by Andreea-Nicoleta Ban / 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.