A woman leans over the breakfast table with a cheerful smile, holding a steaming plate of bacon and eggs. “Would you like some bacon and eggs, a slice of toast, maybe a bit of grapefruit juice, and some freshly brewed coffee?” she asks, trying to make the morning feel cozy and comforting.
Her husband barely glances up. “Thanks for asking,” he says, “but I’m not really hungry right now.” He rubs the side of his jaw and adds with a sheepish grin, “It’s this Viagra. I don’t know what it is, but it’s really taken the edge off my appetite. Food? Not appealing at all.”
She frowns slightly but shrugs and starts eating her breakfast alone, thinking maybe lunchtime will be different. Sure enough, when noon rolls around, she sets a bowl of homemade soup in front of him and lays out some freshly baked muffins and a cheese sandwich. “How about some soup, a muffin, or a cheese sandwich?” she asks, trying a gentler tone, hoping he’ll eat something.
He shakes his head, a bit embarrassed. “No thanks,” he says. “I think it’s the Viagra again. I haven’t felt hungry all day. My appetite’s just… gone. It’s like it’s completely ruined the idea of eating.”
She sighs, wiping her hands on a napkin. “Alright,” she mutters under her breath. “Dinner it is. Hopefully by evening he’ll be ready for something.”
Finally, night falls, and she’s bustling in the kitchen, preparing a feast. A juicy rib-eye steak sizzles on the pan, a homemade apple pie cools on the counter, and there’s even a rotisserie chicken roasting in the oven. Aromas of stir-fried vegetables fill the air. She leans over and asks, “Would you like a juicy rib-eye steak with some apple pie for dessert? Or maybe some rotisserie chicken? I even made stir fry tonight!”
