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."