It was a cold winter day. I hate winter. Every year my older
brother made it a habit of finding inventive ways to lock
me out of the house after a snow storm. I ended up hating
the cold, instead of the culprit.
Even years later, while waiting for the bus to take me to
high school, I grew annoyed at the gray skies. "When
is that bus ever gonna get here?!" I wondered. "In
about four and a half minutes." a voice came back. I
said "thanks" out loud, thinking it was some other
high schooler behind me. It wasn't.
Less than five minutes later, I was just glad to see the bus rounding
the corner. I didn't much pay attention to the prediction or whoever
it was who predicted it.
The next day, I half expected nothing, half expected "four
and a half minutes." I heard "seven minutes, twenty seconds."
The next day was "six minutes, ten," then it started to
give me a count down "12 minutes....seven minutes, 45 seconds..."
It was consistent, and accurate. It became a game to me, and I didn't
so mind the cold, knowing how much longer I had to wait.
After about a week, he started off the game a bit differently.
"Hello, my name is Thomas... and I'll be your guide."