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.