"A Little Fire of No Consequence": A Translation of Gisèle Pineau's Un Petit Feu Sans Conséquence

Sonia put on one of her white mini-shorts and her pink tank top that had LOVE written in black block letters on it. She wasn’t wearing a bra and her small, round, tight breasts and nipples protruded under the taut cotton, similar to unripe mangoes that gave the promise of maturing again and again, until they produced a smooth juice that you would never get tired of having in your mouth. She had squeezed herself into those shorts and – she was only too aware of it – her buttocks, which her tight shorts held up high under the denim, aspired to taunt people and tempt the devil. If her old aunt had something to say about her clothes, or her navel that looked scornfully at the world like an arrogant eye rooted in the midst of her belly, she would shorten her visit, free in no time from the burden that had been imposed on her.