Six minutes--I see the light.

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The monitor nods me a gentle welcome in the cutting breeze. "Six minutes", it greets me. "Six minutes," I greet back with a vengeful stare. I tip my glasses up with my left palm, and massage my eyes with the numbing appendages on my right.
"Six minutes," the monitor reasserts itself to me, the word hatefully scribed onto its shiny display.
I take a step back and slump down onto a nearby bench, tugging myself away further in my suit. I wish I have a proper jacket. But my pride and utter lack of fashion senses bar away from such logical option in my winter wears. Despite burying myself deeper into the silky chasm, the wail of dying winter wind manages to seep in and sheer my skin. I let my feet dance away the cold, drumming a rhythm, marching a parade of warmth and sensations back into my toes.
I resume my torturous peekaboo with the monitor. It finally relents. "Two minutes," it flickers.
But scarcely a dozen seconds goes by, and I can feel a new tremor joining my march. My half buried face turned to catch two distinct orbs. They were bright yellow. And they creep inevitably towards me. Then just as the neon light from the platform bathe the orbs, they sprout a windshield, complete with a faceless silhouette of a driver, and then an entire streak of a train snaked out of them. A metallic screech trumpets its arrival, welcoming it with carpet of wood and metal.

"Thank God it arrives early," I sighed victoriously to the spiteful monitor as it waves me one last goodbye and blows me one last frigid kiss.

Physics Disaster: Episode 1 "Pandora's Box"

Every morning just before sun rise, Isaac will roll around in his bed appreciating the fact that every action has an equal and opposite reaction, lest his mattress gives way for his mass to accelerate straight down to the center of the Earth.

But this morning is a little bit different than before. As soon as his consciousness creeps up to him, Isaac peeled the quilt off of his body and rolled off the bed onto his tiny feet. It is still dark outside, but Isaac's little frame could no longer hold in the excitement. If one can assign physical property and occupied space to his excitement, it would takes the place of his hair, which at this very instant is perfectly mimicking a jet black explosion. Well, except that it would be all colorful and exciting, of course.

Like all perfectly reasonable event, Isaac's excitement must be a result of a perfectly rational, explainable and quantifiable cause. That cause arrived late the night before in the form of his father, Professor Alan Smith, who has just returned from his latest expedition to the deepest frontier of the Earth. Despite being a sophomore in a prestigious college, Isaac is always as giddy as a little boy every time his father comes home.

Isaac tiptoes down the stairs in the pitch black, and navigates himself effortlessly into the kitchen. He is hoping to whip up a little breakfast for his old man. After all, there's nothing in the world that says "welcome home!" better to a person who just spent six months chasing mythical relics in the middle of a deadly rain forest than a nice toast and jam, ice cold glass of juice, and freshly cooked veggie sausage. Isaac's family: his father and him, are vegetarian, or something close to that. His mother had long since left them for another man because she can no longer stand having a husband who disappear for months at a time.

As Isaac groped the kitchen wall just above the counter for the light switch, his hand rammed into something.. something that wasn't usually there. His hand, being a moving physical object, did what it did best, and heartily shares its energy and momentum with the box, sending it tumbling to the ground with a dull thud. For once, an action producing an equal and opposite reaction does not favor Isaac. But lady luck still do, and the box sat on the ground unharmed, its lid firmly held against the box by its own mass pressing down on it.

And just as Isaac's figure touched the switch, the room lit up. However, it is not from the LED light situated above his head, but from the seam between the box and its lid. Mr Smith flies down the last couple of steps on the stair to witness what happened.

"Oh, dear.. I think you've just opened Pandora's Box, son", Mr Smith whispered almost inaudibly, his mouth gaping wide open.