“You’re not busy enough?” I said. “You’ve got the petting zoo and the pizza thing and the pig side hustle. How busy do you need to be?” “I get depressed if I don’t have stuff to do,” he said. “Especially in the off-season.” I stopped to study him. “You feel depressed or actual depression?” “Actual depression,” he said, taking a bite. “Have you ever been to therapy?” I asked. “Every week,” he said. “Do you take meds?” “Never missed one dose.
