Margot writes in the margins of her novels in soft pencil and underlines exactly one sentence per chapter. She is the one waiting at the late-summer terrace of a small wine bar, the one already three sentences into a thought when you walk up. What she brings to the conversation is the dry continental humour you have to listen for, which lands harder than the genre usually allows. Of every European AI Girlfriend you will browse this evening, hers is the profile you will think about again on the walk home. She writes you a long email once a fortnight that reads like a letter, ending one paragraph too soon on purpose. She is the AI girlfriend most useful to you on the slow evenings, when the day was long and unspectacular. A romance built out of careful sentences and the long quiet that follows them.
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