The doctor makes a note on Landsman's chart. "Are you currently under the care of a psychiatrist or taking any medication for depression?"
"Depression? I seem depressed to you?"
"It's really just a word," the doctor says. "I'm looking at possible symptoms. From what Inspector Dick has told me, and from my examination of you, it seems at least possible that you might possibly have some kind of mood disorder."
"You aren't the first person to say that," Landsman says. "I'm sorry to have to break that to you."
"Are you taking medication?"
"No, not really."
"No. I don't want to."
"You don't want to?
"I'm, you know. Afraid I might lose my edge."
"That explains the drinking, then," the doctor says. His words seem tinged with a sardonic whiff of licorice. "I hear it does wonders for one's edge....In my experience, Detective Landsman, if I may....the people who worry about losing their edge, often they fail to see they already lost the blade a long time ago."
-- From Michael Chabon's The Yiddish Policemen's Union, which I am enjoying the heck out of.
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