Rose perfume. It's my mother's chosen scent. One good whiff and I'm 6 years old hugging my mom good bye when she drops me off at my aunt's.

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"BOY: On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses? GIRL: Will he offer me his mouth? BOY: Yes. GIRL: Will he offer me his teeth? BOY: Yes. GIRL: Will he offer me his jaws? BOY: Yes. GIRL: Will he offer me his hunger? BOY: Yes. GIRL: Again, will he offer me his hunger? BOY: Yes! GIRL: Yes. BOY: On a hot summer night, would you offer your throat to the wolf with the red roses? GIRL: Yes. BOY: I bet you say that to all the boys!" -Meatloaf