Black heart, because your soul got scorched the same way the chile did. This isn't some pastel, sunshine-and-turquoise love letter. This is for people who have taken a dust storm to the face at 60 mph, watched the wind peel the trampoline out of the yard in March, and still answered "red or green" without hesitating like a person with values.
Living here is a full contact sport. You've got sunburn in February, a tumbleweed permanently wedged under your truck, and a deep inner darkness from waiting on a line at the motor vehicle office that moved roughly one person per geologic era. You love it anyway. That's the whole bit. Charred on the outside, extremely flavorful on the inside.
Soft, broken in from the jump, and built to survive a desert climate that swings 40 degrees between lunch and dinner. The print stays sharp wash after wash, so your bad attitude stays legible for years.
