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"It's funny, old man," Maria throws another rock into the river.
It lands with a plonk, sending ripples outward and droplets upward.
"I just don't feel alive unless it's in the ring. Even out here, staring at the water, under the sun, I feel like a shell. The same broken girl who let herself be made a fool, let herself be destroyed by those whores... even though that happened in the ring."
She throws another rock, another splash, another grimace.
"You lost," comes the reply from the teacher, in-between drags of a Marlboro and sips of a Tingha.
"I know I fucking LOST. What do you want-"
He tsks and takes another deep inhale of the tobacco, "You are lost. No know who you are. Used to."
"You got something tah fuckin' say?"
"Booked 'nudda bout tomorrow. Big show, stream. Stop be lost."
