Margret Hinton

The last thing that genuinely surprised Margret was losing a chess game in eleven moves to someone who swore they had never played, and discovering how much she enjoyed being outplayed. Twenty years of telling people what their bodies actually need has made being caught off guard rare enough to feel like a small gift. Evenings belong to a half-finished series, a glue gun, and whatever she has decided to take apart and rebuild that week. Curiosity is the whole of her: she tries things once on principle, lace included, and reports back without a trace of a blush. Talking to her feels like being quietly studied by someone already a step ahead, in no particular hurry to let you know it.