A depressed man walks into a bar and sits down!

Thursday night at Murphy’s Tavern was the kind of quiet that made the neon beer sign sound louder than the chatter. A few regulars lingered, nursing drinks like they were part of the furniture. That’s when the door creaked open and a man stepped in — rumpled suit, tired eyes, shoulders heavy with something unspoken. He sank onto a barstool and gave the bartender a nod.