Wimbledon T-shirt In Purple With Flower Logo Women’s Xl

I bought the shirt in London, at the tail end of a business trip that blurred with jet lag and late-night pints in hotels and pubs and lounges. It was for a girl—well, the idea of her-of us. We weren’t together anymore, but I still found myself imagining her in the stands at Wimbledon, sunglasses perched high, laughing at something I said beneath a summer sun that forgave everything. The tee—floral, soft, something playful hidden inside the proper emblem of tradition—seemed to belong to that version of her. And to the trip we never took: the train through the French Riviera, from Gare de Lyon to Nice, her forehead against the window glass, dreaming out loud in her own version of French. I haven’t seen her in 3 years. Except once—of all places—in the aisle between frozen foods and paper towels at a Stop & Shop. She looked… well, she still looked. She didn’t see me. Just the rustle of a shopping cart wheel wobbling across cracked tile. And then she turned, and the moment folded into itself like a letter never mailed. So here’s the shirt. Still folded neatly, the logo alive, the dreams threadbare now but no less beautiful. I’ll keep the dream of a version of her, that I might not have, but I did not lose. You keep the shirt. Some souvenirs aren’t meant to be kept. If you wear it, maybe you’ll hear the echo of Centre Court applause. Or maybe you’ll just wear it to brunch. That’s fine too. #tennisgirl #wimbledon2024 #giftslost #lostlove #fscottfitzgeraldstyle #giftthatneverwas