Chestnut Hours Shirt

She’s had three dreams and two matcha lattes this morning.
None of them made sense—except the shirt.

It clings like a thought she can’t quite finish.
Hand-dyed in a chestnut tone, the colour sits somewhere between burnt sugar and forgotten journals.
There’s warmth in it—faint, flickering—like lamplight in a train window.
The crochet, loose enough to breathe but close enough to hold her together, was made by someone with patience she doesn’t possess.

She moves slowly, like buffering.
One boot slightly ahead of the other, as if even her steps are unsure.
The espresso is too bitter. The matcha too cold.
Still, she drinks both—one for ritual, one for hope.

She wears the shirt like a boundary: textured, deliberate, soft in theory.
She speaks in lowercase, avoids mirrors at full brightness, and pretends to forget what day it is.
People call her elusive. But she’s just enduring.

The jumper fits.
The morning doesn’t.

Material- hand dyed and hand crocheted cotton linen blend