Manifesto

"I've got to get out of this smoky bar." she sighed. "Smoke gets in my eyes, in my hair. I'll smell like this for weeks. I need to breathe."

He downed his scotch, took a drag of his cigarette, "You obviously live in the woods etching your manifestos on tree bark hoping passing deer will read and understand. Missy, what you don't understand is deer DON'T CARE. They only want to raise their young, live in their McMansions, drive their soccer deer hummers to yoga class, maybe grab some sushi and a Booster Juice and get some rest before another long day at work."

But she was already gone.