Once upon a time there was a man who stabbed another man in the heart. The man got blood on his best shirt – by the time he had created an alibi, all dry-cleaners had closed. He had an important meeting the next morning: it was unacceptable to dress worse than his best. And everybody knew that Egyptian-cotton shirt. He wore it for confidence.
So he bought a flower to cover the stain. The flower smelled so good that the important people in the meeting demanded it. His boss glared at him. The meeting went well. Then he turned himself in.