I stepped on my mother's heart and left. A week and a half, working in the Netherlands. In the morning, coffee with a newspaper, at noon, a salad, in the evening, fasting. Finally, my hair didn't smell like soup anymore. I translated, I read, I visited museums, I wandered around shops by myself. A real debauchery. Nobody bothered me, what more could I ask for, I was a new person. Calm, smiling, relaxed like I was 20 years old. As soon as I set foot in the house, I came to my senses. Everyone started pressing my buttons, and I devoured them whole.
Adriana Patroi Miu
It seemed as if he wanted to linger a little longer. You realized he wasn't dead because he was sipping soup through a straw, just enough to keep him going for another day. It was a strange atmosphere. I was sitting by the edge of the bed, watching a person fade away, watching a lineage extinguish: mine. I love you, grandpa, I said. He can't hear you anymore, my father whispered. He hasn't heard anyone for a long time. And I love you too, he replied. Then he returned to his vegetative state, but he didn't die. Until they took him to his abandoned house in Buzău, he didn't want to leave.
Julia Sandu
I was sitting in the dark kitchen, watching the greasy light bulb hang like a guillotine. Seven sins? Lust? On the table, a box of old burgers. Sloth? I was wearing the same underwear since Tuesday. Envy? The neighbor had a paid Netflix subscription. Wrath? I yelled at the toaster for burning my bread. Pride? I wore every bad decision like a medal. Lust? Ah, Crowley is a small child. Greed? I wanted more and more, less of the debts. Then, the stray cat scratched the window. I gave it milk. It fell asleep in my arms, purring. I felt like a different person.
(Translated by Eduard Mihai Uretu / 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.