Then, almost as an afterthought, he added, “It’s this Viagra—it’s really taken the edge off my appetite.” She raised an eyebrow at his unexpected explanation but said nothing, assuming he just needed time for things to settle. A few hours later, around lunchtime, she decided to check in on him again. “Would you like something now?” she asked. “How about a bowl of soup, some homemade muffins, or maybe a cheese sandwich?” She was clearly putting effort into offering his favorites, trying to tempt him into eating something. But just like before, he politely declined. “No, still not hungry,” he said. “I’m telling you, it’s the Viagra—it’s really spoiled my need for food.”

She sighed quietly but didn’t push him. Perhaps he wasn’t feeling well, and she decided to give him more time. When dinner rolled around, she once again stepped up her efforts, clearly determined to make sure he ate something that day. “How about now?” she asked, trying to sound upbeat. “Would you like a juicy ribeye steak, maybe with mashed potatoes and

a little apple pie for dessert? Or I could warm up the rotisserie chicken and throw together a stir fry.” She was clearly hoping something on the menu would break through his stubborn appetite loss. But yet again, he shook his head. “No, I’m still not hungry,” he said. “It’s got to be the Viagra. I haven’t wanted food all day.”