Coconut Fever

A palm so extra it looks like it hired a stylist. Coconuts hanging in a cluster like they’re posing for a tropical boyband album cover. The sky is a perfect gradient, the kind of fake-blue you’d get from a cheap travel brochure in the ‘90s. You can almost hear the bad stock music playing — steel drums, fake seagulls, someone shouting “Welcome to Paradise!” with too much enthusiasm. It’s sunny, it’s ridiculous, and it’s everything your therapist warned you about.