The typing pool

Helena typed. She typed like a steam engine. 9 to 5. Typing. She never stopped. She never looked up. She just typed. The words she typed were her job. Every day. Type type type.

Helena never spoke. Never screamed in delight. Never felt the air from the window. She just typed. Everyday. She typed. That was her job.

Friends emailed her

‘Helena. Come and play with us in the daytime. Frolic in the wind with us’

She never did she just typed. Words. From one person or persons to another. Every day.

Helena got very poorly and she lay on the hospital bed. She watched the clouds evolve and disappear. She heard the bird sing. She watched planes full of people going somewhere. She heard laugher. She heard coughing. Helena thought

‘I wished I hadn’t typed so much. I wish I had been free to do whatever I liked. I wonder why I didn’t’

A robin red breast appeared on the window. It looked at her with a slightly quizzical look.

‘I understand now Mr Robin’

Helena died.