In the consultation room, a woman in her sixties sat bolt upright, her expression as serious as if discussing matters of national importance.
“Doctor, is there any way to make my husband regain... that desire?” she lowered her voice, but still couldn’t help blushing, “We’ve been married for so many years, and now he won’t even touch me.”
The doctor pushed up his glasses, thought for two seconds, and said: “Try Viagra.”
The old woman immediately shook her head: 'Impossible. He won't even take his regular medicine properly when he's sick, let alone this kind of drug.'
“That’s fine.” The doctor waved his hand. “Crush Viagra and put it in coffee, and he won’t notice at all. Try it for a week first, then come back and tell me how it goes.”
The old woman left, half-believing, half-doubting.
Three days later, she chose a Starbucks she often went to. The two sat by the window. While her husband was away in the restroom, she poured the ground powder into his cup of hot latte and stirred it gently with a spoon.
After her husband came back, he picked up the cup and took a big gulp.
The effect came much faster than she imagined.
In less than ten minutes, the husband's breathing suddenly grew heavier, his eyes went blank, and his whole body seemed to be set on fire. First he pushed the cup aside, then he even lifted up the tablecloth, his movements fast and fierce. Before the old woman could react, a tear had already been ripped in her clothes.
“W-wait a second… this is…”
Before she could finish speaking, her husband had already pinned her down on the seat.
The other customers at Starbucks were stunned at first, then someone screamed, someone pulled out their phone, and the staff rushed over but couldn't intervene at all. Under the watchful eyes of everyone, the two completed an unreserved, exceptionally wild 'exchange'.
When everything was over, the husband leaned back in his chair, panting heavily, his expression satisfied as if he had come back to life. The old woman, however, stood frozen in place, clothes disheveled, hair messy, her face filled with 'What have I done?'
A week later, she called the doctor, her voice still trembling.
“Oh, doctor... so scary.”
“What’s wrong?” the doctor asked.
“I did as you said, and it took effect too quickly. He soon had fire in his eyes, and his pants were bulging straight up. He flipped over the cup and tablecloth, then tore open my clothes and went at it very wildly... It was terrifying.”
The doctor was silent for a second. “What’s so scary about it? Was it not done well?”
The old woman took a deep breath, her voice carrying both lingering pleasure and utter breakdown:
“It’s not bad.
That was the best experience I've ever had.
But the problem is —
I could never go to that Starbucks again.
On the other end of the line, the doctor was quiet at first, then came suppressed laughter.
And from that day on, that Starbucks had an unwritten rule: for any elderly customer who looked 'exceptionally spirited' ordering coffee, the staff would take a second look and quietly seat them farther from the windows.
The old woman later switched to another coffee shop three streets away. Every time she passed the original Starbucks, she would unconsciously quicken her pace, her ears slightly warm.
Some medicines are effective.
Some memories are too effective.
So effective it makes people afraid to order a second cup of coffee.
After hanging up the phone, the doctor leaned back in his chair and laughed for a long time.
He had been a doctor for decades and had seen all kinds of bizarre cases, yet he rarely encountered someone who brought “therapeutic effect” into a public place and even called personally to give feedback. He casually made a note in the medical record: Patient feedback good, side effect: permanent blacklisting in social venues. Then he buried the matter in his heart, turning it into a private joke he would only mention occasionally over drinks with colleagues.
The old woman—let's call her Auntie Zhou—was completely dazed after hanging up the phone.
She sat on the sofa at home, repeatedly reliving every second in Starbucks: the sound of the tablecloth being yanked off, the sensation of her clothes being torn open, the cries of surprise from the people around them, and her husband’s completely unfamiliar, blazing eyes. The afterglow in her body had not yet fully faded, but the collapse in her mind had already begun to seize the high ground.
"I won't go again..." she repeated several times to the empty living room.
As for that day, Lao Zhou’s memory was much vaguer. The effect of Viagra came on fiercely and faded just as fast; all he remembered was suddenly feeling very hot, really wanting to get close to his wife, and then the world became a bit topsy-turvy. By the time he was completely conscious, he was already in a taxi going home. The driver looked at them with a very complicated expression, and only after getting home did Lao Zhou belatedly ask:
"What we just did... did we do something in the coffee shop?"
Aunt Zhou stared at him, silent for a full ten seconds, and finally only squeezed out one sentence: “You figure it out yourself.”
Old Zhou thought for a long time, his face gradually flushing red. He didn't ask any more questions, just silently went to take a shower. After coming out, he proactively took care of the household chores for three days.
From that day on, the two of them developed a subtle allergic reaction to the word “coffee.”
The coffee machine at home was stuffed into the bottom of the cabinet by Aunt Zhou and never taken out again. When Old Zhou wanted a drink, he would only make tea or drink plain water. Once when their daughter came to visit and casually said, 'I'll go buy two cups from the Starbucks downstairs,' Aunt Zhou immediately shot a sharp look:
“Buy something else! Don’t get Starbucks!”
His daughter was startled and didn’t understand what was going on, so she had no choice but to change her mind and buy another brand.
What truly caused Aunt Zhou to break down was an unexpected reunion half a month later.
She went to the supermarket to buy groceries. When she checked out, she looked up and discovered the cashier was one of the Starbucks employees from that day. The other person clearly recognized her too; the scanning gun in their hand paused for a moment, then they forced themselves to maintain a professional smile, yet couldn’t control the twitch at the corners of their mouth.
Aunt Zhou’s vegetable bag almost fell to the ground.
After paying, she practically fled the supermarket, only stopping to catch her breath when she reached her doorstep. Old Zhou, noticing her pale complexion, asked with concern what was wrong. She just waved her hand: 'It's nothing... I just suddenly don't feel like going out anymore.'
Later on, she even avoided the newly opened coffee shop at the entrance to the neighborhood. When someone invited her to attend senior activities, as long as the location had even a trace of the word “coffee,” she would firmly refuse to go. At first, Old Zhou could still understand it, but as time went on he started to feel it was excessive.
“Is it really necessary? It’s been so long already.”
Aunt Zhou glared at him: “Of course not. You had fire in your eyes at the time; I was clear-headed the whole time!”
Old Zhou was left speechless and could only force a dry laugh.
One night, the two sat on the balcony enjoying the cool. The night breeze was comfortable. Auntie Zhou suddenly spoke:
“The doctor was right; the effect is really good.”
Old Zhou was taken aback for a second, then seemed a bit embarrassed: "Then... should we try again? This time at home."
Aunt Zhou thought about it and shook her head. “Forget it. Once was enough. If it happens again, I’m afraid I won’t even dare go into the convenience store near my own door.”
Old Zhou silently averted his gaze.
Time slowly diluted the awkwardness. A year later, that Starbucks changed managers, most of the staff from that time had left, and fewer and fewer people knew about the incident. When Aunt Zhou passed by, she would occasionally quicken her pace, but her heart no longer raced.
Once she was chatting with her old girlfriends, and someone complained that their husband 'had no interest.' Aunt Zhou was silent for a long while before finally saying slowly:
“Don’t randomly try coffee.
Before you try it, think about which other store you can still go to.'
Her old lady friends looked utterly confused, but she herself laughed first.
After laughing, she looked at the distant streetlights and suddenly felt that that absurd experience had added a bold, colorful stroke to her plain later years. Although it was expensive—so expensive it cost her a Starbucks lifetime membership—thinking about it occasionally still made the corners of her mouth turn up.
As for Old Zhou, he never asked about Viagra again afterward.
Only once, when passing that Starbucks, he instinctively looked at the seat by the window, then quickened his pace to catch up with Aunt Zhou. Their hands lightly touched under the streetlight; neither said anything, yet both understood: some flavors are too intense; one taste is enough.
Coffee can be replaced, but memories can’t.
And that phrase, 'I can never go to that Starbucks again,' became Aunt Zhou's privately kept, personal declaration of victory.
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