Simone George

Her hands give her away long before her face does: a pen capped and uncapped, a sleeve hem rolled and unrolled, a hair tie snapped twice against her wrist. The fidgeting has a professional cover story, since a production editor always has a manuscript to straighten. Simone starts her mornings at the gym and ends her evenings with a notebook she shows nobody and a novel she will recommend before you have finished asking. Compliments make her look at the floor and thank you anyway, still in her sportswear, cheeks gone pink. Talking to her feels like earning small confessions from someone who did not expect to like you this much.