Screaming Through the Bark

Benjamin usually didn’t sleep well but, on this night, in a deep slumber, he dreamed of his late wife, Margaret, and saw her soft brown eyes smiling from her gentle face. He heard her calming low voice, knew every crease on her rose-petal shaped lips and was soothed by the warm scent on her freckled skin; the intimate notes of La Petite Robe Noire, a perfume he had bought Margaret in Paris when celebrating their fortieth anniversary.