12.03.2026

Monica Bologa
I decide to take a shortcut, so I won't be late to the theatre. I see my ex-boyfriend buying tomatoes from a stall. To get a better look at him, I tell the vendor at a nearby stall to pack me a kilo of potatoes, one of carrots, parsley, parnsnip and beans. I pay for the vegetables, then head toward him to say hello. Only the cap was the same. The man was someone else. With my hair done, make up on, heels clicking, arms full of heavy bags, I'm no longer in the mood for any kind of theatre. Now I sit here with carrots in a bag and I have no idea what kind of soup I should cook.

 Nicolae Popescu
The forum is full of white togas. Cicero complains to Brutus: There's no room left because of the plebeians; Caesar has filled the Senate with them. Well, yeah, they approve everything the madman says. Now he wants to conquer Parthia; he's going to drive the Empire into ruin. What's worse is that he's humiliated us, the patricians, he pushed us aside. He wants to proclaim himself dictator for life. It's too much. We have to do something. You're his friend, Brutus. You can stand up to him, look him in the eye. No... he intimidates me when he stares at me with those eyes, like daggers. I'd rather wait for him to turn his back.

 Cecilia Fofiu
Aunt Nuți is the only one in the family without offspring, and I'm her favorite. Dreaming of inheritance, I call her often, affectionately, to tend to her needs. Today, I invited myself over, worried because she's been politely declining my help lately. She greets me suspiciously cheerful, makes coffee, and let's me know she's relieved me of my duties thanks to Rashid, who delivers her custom-made pizza and whom she's convinced to become her personal assistant. Then she opens the bedroom door, where, perched on the edge of the bed, I'm met by a bright white smile and a drawn-out Hi.


(Translated by Adina-Lorena Dulamă / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)


Real Fiction is a collective project started in 2013 by Florin Piersic Jr. The concept of Real Fiction continued to exist as a Facebook group, after a volume of stories was published at Humanitas Publishing House. (In April 2025, the group has 13,740 members.) The authors write ultra-short stories, with the texts limited to 500 characters (in Romanian, so the length of the English translation might be a little different) - a flash-fiction exercise on a topic that changes every few days. The group's coordinators are Florin Piersic Jr., Gabriel Molnar, Răzvan Penescu, Luchian Abel, Monica Aldea, and Vlad Mușat. (Drawing by Adrian T. Roman)

Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.

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