On the way home one night, I spotted some fresh-cut roses outside a florist's shop. After selecting a dozen and entering the shop, I was greeted by a young saleswoman.

"Are these for your wife, sir?" she asked.

"Yes," I said.

"For her birthday?" she asked.

"No," I replied.

"For your anniversary?"

"No," I said again.

As I pocketed my change and headed toward the door, the young woman called out, "I hope she forgives you."