Life Begins on Friday. Ioana Parvulescu

people win, some lose. Nicu had already adopted him as a member of his not very large family; this man Dan Crețu, who in the light of day looked gentle and ill. But what if, he now thought, what if it really was like that, if he had an unknown brother who had grown up far away, as happened in the family of that vendor from the fish market? When the brothers met, they both sensed it, like an electric current that passed through them both and made them burst into tears. It was as if he had felt the same current, when he saw the stranger for the first time, except that there had been no tears. But if you don’t feel like crying, does it still mean you’re brothers?

      5.

      They entered Universul and old man Cercel, who had lately been having stabbing pains in his belly, stood up with a groan. While the stranger brushed the snow off himself, the doorman, surprise, surprise, communicated to the boy in a low voice that he at last had the lottery ticket: 98, 38 and 51. In other words, the coming year, as Nicu had advised, the year of his birth, and the year of his wife’s birth. They looked each other in the eyes, with excitement, the same as they always did when they put fate to the test. Old man Cercel, whose face was a little more congested than usual, conducted the two of them to Peppin Mirto. Nicu was unsurprised to discover that Mr Peppin was inclined to help with regard to the stranger; he was a man who filled any gap anytime and entered anywhere it was difficult. On the other hand, he had not understood very well why Mr Costache wanted to help the stranger, but nor did he trouble his head about it. He decided he must have his reasons.

      He found Peppin working on a translation. He had just written: Second Part. The Genius of Evil... and was about to dip his nib in the inkwell when the motley group made up of the doorman, Nicu and a strange, mild-looking man, appeared in the doorway. The doorman explained what was what, Mr Mirto put his pen down, pressed a piece of blotting paper to the splendidly handwritten title, and in a booming voice invited Dan to sit down. He was surprised to notice that the man did not remove his bowler hat, which was pulled down rather too far over his ears.

      ‘Has Mr Neculai Procopiu arrived yet?’ he asked the doorman.

      ‘Not yet,’ said Nicu and old man Cercel both at the same time. ‘But he should be here any minute now. I’ll tell him to come up...’ added the doorman.

      ‘I’ll tell him too,’ Nicu made a point of saying and then withdrew along with the doorman, but not before giving his adopted brother a wink. It was a habit he had picked up at school from the older boys, who were always finding occasions to encourage each other, just as they were always finding occasions to niggle each other. Nicu they preferred to niggle, but he did not care; he took everything as it came.

      Peppin did not know how to tell the stranger that he had forgotten to take his hat off and finally abandoned the subject, so as not to make him feel embarrassed. He sought a subject of conversation suitable for two men who did not know each other and had just said, in his melodious voice: ‘The snow has started coming down heavily! But fair weather has been announced for tomorrow, I think it must be the mildest winter since–’ when he heard, with relief, faint voices in the corridor. It was indeed Neculai Procopiu, who entered wearing a top hat far too elegant for an ordinary working day. Perhaps he will be going from here straight to the opera, thought Peppin, who was always yearning for music.

      ‘Good day, you must be –’ the editor-in-chief began to say, but then he faltered, his eyes fixed on the hat atop the stranger’s head.