An elderly man is sitting at a fancy restaurant, dining alone. A young, curious waiter approaches his table.
“Excuse me, sir,” the waiter says politely, “but I couldn’t help but notice you’re having dinner all by yourself tonight. Is everything alright?”
The old man looks up, a wistful smile on his face. “Yes, young man, everything is perfectly fine. My wife, bless her soul, passed away a few years ago. We always used to come to this restaurant together for special occasions.”
The waiter nods sympathetically. “I’m so sorry to hear that, sir. It must be difficult to come here alone.”
“It is, it is,” the old man agrees. “But I still like to come and remember the good times. Tonight, I ordered her favorite dish, and I’m having mine.”
The waiter smiles. “That’s very sweet, sir. A lovely way to honor her memory. But if you don’t mind me asking, why are there two plates of food on your table, and you’re only eating from one?”
The old man chuckles, a twinkle in his eye. “Ah, well, you see, my boy, I ordered her favorite dish, and then I ordered my favorite dish. The doctor told me I need to eat for two now.”
The waiter looks confused. “For two, sir? But… why?”
The old man leans in conspiratorially. “Because,” he whispers, “I’m so old, I forget if I’ve already eaten!”