The Manifesto

Rome sat at the kitchen table, the same table where he'd had his coffee that morning, though it felt like a lifetime ago. The house was quiet now, eerily so. No ticking clock. No footsteps. No Melissa (He had moved her body to the trunk of his car). Just the faint hum of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of the floorboards. He liked the quiet. It gave him space to think.

In front of him was his laptop, its screen glowing in the dim light of the kitchen. He'd been typing for hours, his fingers flying across the keyboard as he poured his thoughts onto the digital page. The words came easily, almost too easily, as if they'd been waiting inside him all along, just waiting for the right moment to spill out.

He titled the document "The Emancipation of Rome: A Feminist Critique of Marriage." It had a nice ring to it, he thought. Academic but accessible. Provocative but not too provocative. Just the kind of thing that would get people talking.

He took a sip of his coffee—freshly brewed, not the cold dregs from the other day—and began to read what he'd written so far.

[Marriage, as an institution, is fundamentally flawed. It is a relic of a bygone era, a tool of oppression designed to keep men and women trapped in rigid, outdated roles. For too long, I, like so many others, have been a prisoner of this system. But no more. Today, I take a stand. Today, I emancipate myself—and, in doing so, I emancipate us all.]

Rome nodded to himself. Strong opening. Bold. Unapologetic. Exactly what the world needed.

[Chapter 1: The Myth of the Happy Wife]

[Society tells us that a happy wife equals a happy life. But what about the husband? What about his needs, his desires, his right to exist as more than a glorified handyman and paycheck? For years, I lived under the thumb of a woman who believed her happiness was my responsibility. Her constant nagging, her endless demands—these were not expressions of love, but tools of control. And so, I ask you: Who is the real victim here?

The truth is, I didn't kill my wife. I liberated her. I freed her from the shackles of societal expectations, from the burden of being a wife. And in doing so, I freed myself.]

Yes. That was good. That was very good. He leaned forward and continued to type:

[Chapter 2: The Patriarchy Paradox]

[Feminists often speak of dismantling the patriarchy, but what they fail to realize is that men, too, are victims of this system. We are told to be providers, protectors, problem-solvers—but what happens when we can't live up to these impossible standards? What happens when we crack under the pressure? The answer is simple: We are ridiculed. We are dismissed. We are told to "man up." But I say no more. It is time to reject these toxic expectations and embrace a new paradigm.]

Rome leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. This was his magnum opus, his Communist Manifesto for the modern man. He could already see the headlines: "Rome's Manifesto Sparks National Debate." "Is Marriage Obsolete? One Man's Bold Vision for the Future." Maybe he'd even get a book deal out of it.

His phone buzzed on the table, pulling him out of his reverie. It was a text from his buddy, Jack.

"Hey man, you coming to poker night?"

Rome stared at the screen for a moment, then typed back: "Can't. Working on something big."

"Bigger than poker?" Jack replied, followed by a laughing emoji.

Rome smirked. If only Jack knew. He set the phone down and returned to his laptop, his fingers flying across the keyboard.

[Some may argue that my actions were extreme, even unethical. But I ask you: What is more unethical—ending a life, or allowing that life to continue in a state of perpetual unhappiness? My wife was not happy. She was trapped, just as I was trapped. By freeing her, I gave her the ultimate gift: freedom from the chains of marriage. And in doing so, I gave myself the same gift.]

Rome paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. He needed a stronger conclusion here, something that would really make people think. He typed:

[In the end, this is not just my story. It is the story of every man who has ever felt oppressed by the expectations of marriage. It is a call to arms, a rallying cry for all those who dare to dream of a better, freer future.]

Rome leaned back in his chair, a sense of accomplishment washing over him. He'd done it. He'd written the manifesto that would change the world. Or, at the very least, get him out of trouble.

He clicked "Save" and then, after a moment's hesitation, "Publish." The document went live on his blog, a little-known corner of the internet where he occasionally posted rants about sports and politics. He didn't expect much traffic—maybe a few likes from his buddies, if they bothered to read it—but it felt good to put it out there. To take a stand.

He stood up and stretched, his back cracking in protest. The kitchen was a mess—coffee mugs everywhere, crumbs on the counter, the frying pan still sitting on the stove. He'd have to clean it up eventually, but not now. Now, he needed a break.

He grabbed his phone and scrolled through his notifications. The manifesto had only been up for a few minutes, but already there were a handful of comments. He clicked on the first one.

"This is the most ridiculous thing I've ever read."

Rome frowned. Well, that was rude. He clicked on the next one.

"Finally, someone is saying what we're all thinking. Marriage is a scam."

Rome smiled. Now that was more like it.

The comments kept coming, some supportive, some critical, but all of them engaging with his ideas. His blog, which usually got maybe ten views a day, was suddenly getting hundreds. Thousands. His phone buzzed with notifications—new comments, new followers, new shares. His manifesto was going viral.

Rome sat back down at the table, a strange mix of pride and unease settling in his chest. He hadn't expected this. He hadn't expected any of this. But now that it was happening, he couldn't help but feel a little excited. This was his moment. His chance to be heard.

He opened his laptop to start typing again but an email notification popped up, it was from one Jonathan Honda, a talent agent, who claimed to have a proposal for him.

"Rome," the email read, "your manifesto is a game-changer. Let's turn it into a book. Let's change the world."

Rome didn't need to be asked twice.

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