Laura Stanciu
Sergiu was not surprised to see himself on a horse without a saddle, without reins. The horse suddenly got up and took flight. He would have turned it, but he felt dizzy. His heart and the mule galloped steadily toward a horizon that narrowed and changed color from blue to gray, deep gray to black. He lived with three other students, renting a flat near the University of Polytechnic. One of them came home at two in the morning, found him lying in an armchair and called 112. Come quickly. He overdosed.
Veronica Baciu
The snow is up to the window. The house, not too high, has small rooms. Inside it's warm and it smells of food. It's lunchtime. Outside the snow is throbbing. We are four souls and we live as if in a musical box from which we sometimes hear noises. In the window, two little red flies smile wanly, red as a child's cheeks. At a certain moment, two men in long black overcoats, like crows, pass by the window, rush in without anyone's permission, ask for documents, give orders, turn everything upside down. It smells of fear.
Paul Dârvariu
What's in this sachet, Wallflower? I hope you don't use drugs. You know what addiction is? You don't? I'll tell you what it is: today one line, tomorrow two, in a week seven, and in a month you'll be draining my card. Who did you buy it from? From a colleague, Pamfile, but I didn't buy it, he gave it to me for free, on special discount. Don't worry, I don't like drugs. I don't believe you, Wallflower. That's what you said about sex in the beginning. Now you want it every night, sometimes during the day. Addiction, as they say.
(Translated by Andreea Cristina Moise / 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.