At the Market

Florentina Ghițescu
They look nicer over there. And they have everything here, they smell and taste good too, you'll get the best salad you've ever had. I think I'll go to the other stall too. Do as you wish, but, in the end, I'm certain you'll come back to me. There's another issue, we're not haggling like at the market, you'll receive the life you deserve. Maybe this life seems more stunted, but it's only the result of the previous ones. Maybe you'll do better this time around. The doctor's voice could be heard, you have a boy.
 
 Sorin Rizeanu
My soul isn't for sale, she whispered. But she first gave in for a pair of blue eyes. Oh, you are such a dumb girl. My soul isn't for sale, she swore again, but look at his arms and how he caressed her. When this one left too, she wasted her time away in clubs, bookstores and coffee shops. She changed her offer when she found herself with crow's feet by the corners of her eyes, without children, paying high rent for a small apartment. Doesn't anyone want my soul? It's cheap. I just want someone to hold me at night, to be kind to me and to share the rent with.
 
 Magdalena Daminescu
The people were poor. Old clothes were worn until they came apart, rarely would something be thrown away. Grandma, however, always found something to sell and went to the flea market on Tuesdays. She showed off her precious treasures on a newspaper spread out on the ground. The price was set depending on the customer. Velvet and silk were priced high, the woven, transparent, headscarves were all the rage. She hid her money in her bosom for fear of thieves. She only dared count it at home, and then stuffed it in a tied up handkerchief, that she only undid for her dear granddaughters.

 
(Translated by Adriana-Maria Botea / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year II / Corrected by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)