The lake

I saw a bearded man walking down the street, violently banging his head back and forth, his screams muffled slightly by his terrrifying clenched teeth. He was aimed for the lake.

I saw another man, bearded too, but this time running, arms flailing, neck bent, towards the lake.

I recall thinking “In Voklian Geometry all lines converge upon the lake” but went no further along this trail of fancy.

It was around this time that I noticed the hem on my trousers had begun to fray, and the word hem dominated my thoughts from thereon in.