Brown heart. Not red, not pink, brown. Because loving Delaware is a different kind of love: it is the color of scrapple sizzling in a diner pan, the color of a mud-splattered truck after a weekend down at the shore, the color of the marsh water you absolutely should not swim in but your cousin did anyway.
This is for the people who know the whole state is basically three counties and a toll booth, who brag about no sales tax like it is a personality trait, and who have personally sat in two hours of beach traffic for forty minutes of sunburn. It is love, it is just a little muddy and smells faintly of chicken farms. We said what we said.
Soft enough to live in, sturdy enough to survive a summer of boardwalk fries and a winter of whatever the forecast decides to do that hour. Breathable, comfortable, and built to hold its shape and color wash after wash, so it keeps looking good long after everyone stops asking about the brown heart.
