Friday night, at 10 p.m. straight, Sierra and I stood before Point 68's door, waiting for Max to come. The air was exceptionally cold tonight. It wasn't snowing, but the ground was frozen and my breaths were coming out in a form of white puffs.
Five minutes after ten, Max appeared in the entrance, ushering us in. Inside, Point 68 looked just like a normal bar. Booths with red-cushioned seats, a bar with a variety of colourful glass bottles, dim light, pool tables, and people. The small lamps cast shadows over the walls painted a dark colour and decorated with black-and-white photographs. I didn't get to get a good look at them, because Max led us further inside, not stopping to talk with anyone on his way. Immediately, I started feeling like in one of those Godfather movies and I didn't l
