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?"
"No."
"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."