"It's a distraction," Cash said with a shrug of his shoulders, "Sometimes it helps. Sometimes it doesn't." Sometimes he was just numb, and nothing would punctuate it - the Quidditch gave him something to do, but it wouldn't fix it. This couldn't just be how things were, forever.

That Gallivan felt this way, too, was - surprising. Cash had found things to be inherently lonely, the past few years, and trying to describe what was wrong with him had always been an impossible, Gordian knot of an issue.

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