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On the way home one night, I spotted1 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."
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