Massachusetts is the only place where you can get sunburned, snowed on, and cut off in a rotary by a guy in a minivan doing 70, all before noon. You love it here. You also want to drive your car into the harbor every February. Both things are true, and this shirt says the quiet part out loud.
It is for anyone who pays Boston rent for a bedroom the size of a dishwasher, who orders iced coffee in a blizzard like a maniac, who has screamed at a pothole. It is for the heartbreak of a bullpen collapse in September and the heartbreak of a $19 bowl of chowder. Wicked love, wicked pain, one tiny cracked heart doing all the heavy lifting.
Soft, broken in from the first wear, and built to survive humidity, flurries, and everything that happens in between. The stitching holds, the print stays sharp, and the fit is the kind you reach for without thinking, wash after wash after wash.
