I 💔 Indiana is for everybody who has driven four hours across flat, featureless cornfield and realized the destination was also flat, featureless cornfield. It's for the heartbreak of a state that peaks in March, when an entire population loses its mind over high school basketball, then spends the rest of the year recovering. It's for a humidity that makes August feel like a wet gym sock and a wind chill in February that feels personally targeted.
The broken heart isn't hate, it's a relationship status. You love the breaded pork tenderloin that hangs off the bun like a frisbee. You love the sugar cream pie. You just wish the whole place didn't smell faintly like a rendering plant on I-70, and that somebody, anybody, would acknowledge daylight saving time without starting a fight.
Built from soft, broken-in fabric that holds its shape through whatever you put it through, with a print that won't crack or fade after a few washes. Comfortable enough for the drive, durable enough for the return trip.
