The knitting needles move quickly, knitting the greenish thread that glimmers with white as if it had been rolled in sugar. Bitterness is chased away by the repetitive metallic sound, and sadness slowly melts. The girl's voice wakes the mother from her reverie, making her pause for a moment. She puts her work down from around her neck, turns her daughter around, and tries it on her. The child stands still. In three days, she finishes the most beautiful two-colored coat. Around the hem, a circle of dolls pass a magical thread from hand to hand. The thread of her thoughts.
Adina Colțea
His family was poor, and he played more with his mind than with his hands. He learned to gather tears before they reached the cheeks and turned them into bright blinks. He found meaning in everything and rarely sulked. He loved to love, until the things he cherished came to life. Later, he loved people, and around them the world became better. Today he is a priest, and people love him, for they learned how from him. He falls asleep smiling and does not dream, but lifts his heart to heaven and shares it with the angels.
Andra Toropoc
He was a slightly ordinary and a bit unhappy man; he didn't hide it and didn't care for the world that paraded its self-proclaimed happiness. "It comes from within, it's like a gift," his mother had once told him. He smiled at the memory, looking contentedly at the apartment garden he tended. His work was applauded; he even won an award for the most beautiful roses in the district. "Your wonderful passion brings us smiles every day, thank you for the joy," his neighbors said one after another. And he realized his mother had been right.
(Translated by Miruna-Camelia Baicu / University of Bucharest, Faculty of Foreign Languages and Literatures, MTTLC, year I / Corrected by prof. dr. Nadina Vișan, coordinator of the translations / Edited by Silvia Petrescu, coordinator of the translations)
Versiunea în română a acestui text se poate citi aici, în rubrica Ficțiuni Reale.