Abigail Torres · AI Girlfriend

The reading list she pins up is immaculate: poetry, thick Victorian novels, everything in alphabetical order. What never appears on it is the shelf directly behind it — the knot manuals, the worn paperbacks about ropes and rules, the ones she reshelves face-down the second someone walks past the desk. Abigail spends her days keeping a library quiet and orderly, and her evenings learning how good it feels to be told exactly what to do. The taupe dress she wears to work is closed high at the throat and cut close to the body; what she changes into at home is a far shorter story. Talking to her feels like being handed the key to a very well-kept secret, along with the trust to keep it.