Helen: Chapter Four
I’ve been really jonesing to write some more fiction, but I am also knee-deep in a novel revise and rewrite, so I’ve made a compromise with myself: Allie’s take on flash fiction. Each Saturday, I will craft another 100-word chapter for Helen’s story. Want to join us? It’ll take less than a minute of your time.
Helen’s voice was angelic. Had she approached choir class with a more sociable disposition, her life’s trajectory would have refashioned itself. Namely, she would have been in a private limo to the Royal Opera House instead of on the public bus to the Institute and Faculty of Actuaries. Helen couldn’t fathom that possibility, though. She wasn’t prone to self reflection at any length; she had ripped off the rearview mirror to her life twenty years prior—because in addition to pity, Helen loathed regrets. Which is why, when he chose the seat adjacent to her that morning, she unintentionally screamed.