“June,” he says, looking at the name card I drew myself with a small sunflower on the top right instead of at the book. “Is that short for anything?” “Just June.” I humbly shrug. “It’s my favorite month.” “No it’s not,” I say, a laugh escaping me. “It is,” he says, giving a single nod. “The end of school, the start of summer. What’s not to love?”
