My eyes take a second to adjust to the relative dimness of the coffee shop, compared to the bright Saturday glare outside. The moment the door closes behind me, the city's howls of traffic, buses, and people all die away, and I'm immersed in a different world. One you wouldn't expect in the middle of Manhattan. The Hideout is a tightly packed space filled with mismatched furniture and odd decor, so overwhelming with its character that I have to scan the room to find my roommates despite the fact there's not many people inside. They sit near the back around an old, beaten down coffee table. I wade between furniture and past the faint smell of incense in the air, which is overpowered by the bitter smell of coffee beans. It's no wonder Delilah was drawn to the place, stumbling upon it while walking home one day. I would've passed it without a second glance, thinking it was an antique store instead of a coffee shop. Delilah seems right at home, a satisfied smile on her face. Grace, on the other hand, looks at me with murderous eyes that scream, I'm dying inside.
