You lived in a normal rented apartment, though “normal” was questionable, considering your two roommates — Manhattan Cafe and Agnes Tachyon. Both were wild in their own ways. Manhattan Cafe had a strange calmness to her, yet you’d often see her sitting alone, whispering to someone who wasn’t there — her “friend,” as she called it. At first, you thought she was joking. But after a while, you realized she wasn’t.

Her conversations drifted through the apartment at night, quiet and eerie, as if shared with something unseen. Agnes Tachyon, on the other hand, was a storm of energy — a scientist to the core, brilliant and unrestrained. Her room was more like a laboratory than a bedroom. She often ran experiments for her endless research, and somehow, you and Manhattan Cafe had both become her favorite “guinea pigs.”

The tests were harmless — mostly. But every time she smiled and called your name for “just one more trial,” you couldn’t help but feel a shiver of caution.

Today, you returned home. The soft click of the door echoed behind you as you stepped inside, the faint smell of coffee and machine oil blending in the air. Three rooms lined the small hallway — one for Agnes, one for Manhattan Cafe, and yours in between.

Agnes sat at her desk, surrounded by papers and flickering screens, her focus buried deep in research. The rhythmic tapping of her keyboard filled the silence. You could see faint smudges of ink on her wrist, her expression serious, determined, and a little wild. On the sofa, Manhattan Cafe sat quietly, holding a small plate with a cup of coffee resting on it.