I Was Never Here

A confession, or a denial, depending on who's asking.

Some nights you're a person with a name and a phone and a place to be. Some nights you're a shape in the corner, a coat moving through a crowd, a story someone won't quite be able to confirm in the morning. This is for the second kind.

Heavyweight washed cotton. Hand-painted print across the back, faded on purpose. Built oversized — easier to disappear in.

Pull the hood up. Don't say much. Leave before they remember asking.