A lit candle, a bit of lavender incense, its smokey scent filling the spartan room. The thoughts and memories of a time long past, when there was still innocence and youth... I can barely remember her face, as I practiced the ritual I have been doing in secret for more than a decade.

I take the cup with it's smokey brew and stared into its amber depths, nose wrinkling at its' sharp scent. It was almost the same color as her hair. Its long dark brown hair, smooth and shimmering in the light. One sip.

I place the cup down in front of the candle and incense as I continue to reminisce. This time of the year used to be my favorite when I was younger, it's time supposedly a time for freedom, the anticipation of fun in the sun amongst friends and family. Taking the cup in my hands again I stare at the blank and empty space in front of me. Two sips.

She was smart, intelligent beyond her years and incredibly funny and insightful. At that age I had problems. She, like me, was 'groomed' for high expectations. At the time, it didn't seem like much, trouble, noise and ... pain. Three sips.

She took it all in stride, smiled and tried her best to keep me happy. I saw in the corner of my eyes when she thought I wasn't looking, her happy grin seemed to fade and her eyes were distant. At least for the moment. Only for that blush to appear on her pale cheeks. She was beautiful. And in more than one way. One sip.

The heady brew working its' way through my system, the slight burn I felt that same night when we stayed out longer than we should have as we talked under stars in the middle of my front yard. About the future. Our dreams. Three sips.

We made promises that night, but the one that stuck with me the most, was one that at the time, I never would have considered. It was ... odd. Its placement was in the midst of a slew of random promises, which at the time I readily agreed to everything, as they were impossible to not agree to. Be friendly. Yes. Be good to strangers. Yes. Always honor your parents. Of Course. Never kill yourself. Naturally. Be charitable. If I can. The list went on. We both swore upon our names, blood and souls to uphold the promises that firefly lit night. One sip.

The suited man that came to collect her, and the threats that could be heard before the door slammed shut. Forgot about the disparity between us both. She was rich, I was not. She had a head for numbers, I had ideas. She had a future in business, I had a future in being confused. She was rich, and I was not. Two sips.

She had slipped away to come visit me. She was always punctual, and exact with her timing, coming when she said she would. I learned that from her. Though for once I wish she hadn't. Four sips.

I was not allowed into her funeral. I would never remember her face, hear her laugh, see her smile, or watch her realize her dreams. Potential wasted and lost on one undeserving. I remember that day. I will always remember that day. And on that day, I drink the memories, and I taste the failure. Chug.

This month always gets to me. An excuse it may be. The amber bottle tall and still filled with liquid sitting in its' box right next to me. I think about it and shake my head. She wouldn't want that. So I continue to kneel there, staring at the space. And I imagine what could have been. And I keep the memories. And I honor my promises.

----

Some dance to forget, I dance to remember. I hate the week leading up the June, and I hate June itself. It's a cursed month for me, and I never seem to act rational in it. Some people that know me might pick up on some of the niggling nuances within that little bit above and it would explain some things. At least kind of. Ah well, Anyway if I seem short with anyone this month apologies in advance.