Late on Friday afternoon, a man walked into a florist still wearing his work coat. He asked for a bouquet that said “I’m sorry.”
“Roses or tulips?” the florist asked.
“Whichever looks more convincing.”
She chose a large bunch of roses. “What did you do?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
The florist paused. “Then why are you apologizing?”
“My wife texted, ‘We need to talk when you get home.’ If I walk in empty-handed, I might not find out what I did until tomorrow.”
The florist wrapped the flowers and reached for a card. “Shall I write ‘Please forgive me’?”
“Leave it blank,” the man said. “She’ll tell me what to put on it when I get there.”