Iulia Biro
Renzo died a few days after four of the dogs had perished with a sled in a crevasse, along with all the navigation and communication equipment. Giova no longer remembers exactly when this happened, the days have become tangled in his mind. White, white and more white, he has no idea where he is or where he's going, maybe he's just spinning in circles here or he himself is lying somewhere, half dead and frozen, and only hallucinating that he's wandering. What does it matter, anyway? He only has two dogs left, no food and no hope.
Adina Colțea
It all started in winter, on a sunny Wednesday morning, when right out of bed, she went outside barefoot to search for Baby, her black Dachshund with a brown snout and a playful little tail, the one she had wanted for years. Then, on Friday, she woke up, still barefoot, in her pajamas, at the corner store, looking for tangerines and some biscuits for Baby. Her daughter tried in vain to explain, with the gentlest words, that Baby doesn't exist, for she, always barefoot, couldn't remember having a daughter.
Rozalia Cristea
I had been eagerly waiting for our destinies to unite. She, a Margaret in a thousand euro white dress and pregnant, and I, Petre, with an empty card, showed up at the civil registry. On our honeymoon, she gave birth to twins. The following months were filled with diapers, many clothes, milk boxes, while I, with sleep debts and bills in my pocket, ran after part-time jobs, even though the full-time one was draining me. Two years later, two little angels were playing in front of the building. Tell me, whose are you. Petre's, they answered. Daddy's at work.
(Translated by Maria-Ilinca Darie / 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.