Maria

A tall man stood at the edge of the Yelapa coast in the dark, the high tide creeping in as the moon began to peek beyond the clouds. His feet slowly soak in the water, every pensive brush of its waves growing steadily, like the empty morning mist. He raised his hand to light up a cigarette, the dancing flame from the lighter illuminating his face. His eyes shone with solace, finding comfort in the void of the ocean.
"Kids... they're lucky man. It is statistically proven that they lead better lives than we have." His voice is gravelly, like hardened concrete. He turns to his friend, who is a couple feet away with something cradled in his arms. "They never have to go through our struggles, or even feel the same fear we held when living in the streets."
Placing the cigarette between his lips, he inhales, facing the ocean once more. The embers within it glowing fiercely in contrast to the cold moonlight
"What I'd do to give that away..." He trails off, "but then again, they can't run from our mistakes either. Can they?"