There’s always a shirt.

You know the one.

Soft from a hundred washes.
Faded from too many nights out.
The collar stretched just enough to tell a story.

Your story.

The shirt you borrowed.
The one you wore to the show.
The one you drove home in with the windows down and the music loud.

And somehow… it stayed with you.

Even after everything else didn’t.

Because some things are hard to throw away.

“Love is a moment… baby, turn the pages.”

So I made something for that feeling.