Everybody back on the mainland thinks you're living in a screensaver. They don't know about the $11 gallon of milk, the rooster that starts screaming at 4:17am, or the centipede doing laps in your bathroom like it pays rent. They don't know that "island time" means your package arrives in three weeks and your contractor arrives never. They've never sat in bumper to bumper traffic on the one highway while a rainbow mocks you through the windshield.
That's what the black heart is for. Not hate. Worse. It's love that has been through it: the vog, the tourists stopping dead in the road for a turtle, the surf report that lied to you, paying resort prices for your own neighborhood. You'd still never leave, and that's the problem.
Cut from soft, breathable fabric that doesn't quit when the humidity does its thing, with a print that survives wash after wash. Relaxed enough for a beach run, sturdy enough to become your default outfit for the next four years.
