Grey heart. Not red, not broken, just... grey. Like the sky from November through April. Like the slush on the highway. Like the exact color of your soul after driving two hours through corn to get to another town that also has corn. This is the official emotion of Indiana: not love, not hate, just a deep and abiding "yeah, it's fine here."
Because what else do you put on a shirt? We've got basketball hoops nailed to barns, a tenderloin sandwich that hangs off the bun like it's trying to escape, gas stations that double as fine dining, and roughly four days of perfect weather a year that everyone talks about for the other 361. It's not a love story. It's a long-term arrangement. Grey heart it is.
Cut from soft, substantial fabric that holds its shape through wash after wash, with a print that won't crack or fade on you. Roomy enough to layer, comfortable enough to live in, and durable enough to outlast another flat, colorless winter.
