June, you did it again.

She was right in my path, I couldn’t miss her if I tried.

“Hi.” Her voice was barely a sound on the breeze. “My name’s June.”

She was vibrant—abundant in colour. Her scent touched the air around us, a rich lilac floral. I breathed deeply. There was another fresher fragrance just below it—something new and alive.

I moved closer.

After the showers came flowers. Winter had long melted away and things heated up—maybe too much. Sometimes, she was downright hot to the point where things were starting to get uncomfortable.

Little by little, the illusion broke apart.

June was a smoker.

On occasion, the cloud around her turned the sunshine into amber and thickened the air so much, I could barely see through it. Then it hit me. I’d met June before, last year, in fact.

That year, she did the same thing, convinced me it was all fun and games, then did what June does best—fills the days with heat and chaos and a schedule full of occasions that leave me wondering what hit me.

‘This year’s going to be different,’ I whisper as I flip calendar pages.

There are already three events listed for the month.

With shaking hand and sweaty brow, I write in three more.

Darling Son adds his items.

Darling Daughter adds hers.

I add some for Darling Husband …

June, you did it again.