Friday Flash: My name is not June


That was the thing that angered her most. After he did all that he had the nerve. The nerve to, after getting up and putting on his pants, pat her on her head and said ” thank you June you were great”. Thank you June you were great were the words that followed her for years after, keeping her where she was, beside him who repeatedly in that same manner pat her on the head and call her June. Now years later, she deems herself married, to him, and yet after he had his way she still winces waiting for him to pat her head and call her June. It was when she could take it no more when she could not bear waiting for the moment where she felt completely used, belittled, she blurted out, right in the middle of his constant thrusting loud and clear, my name is not June. He paused, and then decided he would first like to finish what, or who it was he was doing, and so he grabbed her breasts, and vulgarly continued his act breathing deeply. And after he had peaked, satisfied with the deep ecstasy of emptying himself into the depth of her being he got up put on his clothes and proceeded to pat her on her head. Thank you June. That was the last thing he said to her before walking out. He left her screaming out loud, crying my name is not June. She watched him walk by floors below calling out to him with great resolve whispering repetitively, my name is not June. And as she threw herself over the cold silver railing he looked up and saw her, the beauty queen, float like a feather downwards and landed in a splatter before him. Now all he hears are her last words.