“No, man, this game gets boring, you know? I mean, of course you know, you’ve played like a billion hands.” Logan chuckled. “Have you thought about what you’ll do after poker?”

Ray had. He had thought and thought about it. After poker was a void, a humiliating defeat, a dishonorable discharge from the last clear-cut source of validation he had left. It was a leap into an unknown where he would have to prove himself anew, and perhaps fail. He had worried and obsessed over it. He had thought about it enough to eventually lump the whole multifaceted terror under the label of “Tragedy.” The whole point of this morning was not to think about it.

“Not really,” he said.