“I think he’s lost it,” someone said anonymously from among the crowd, under their breath just loud enough for everyone to hear. Everyone was looking at Herbert now.
“Sir, have you… have you lost your memory?” the questioning man asked. “Do you know who you are?”
“I’m Herbert,” Herbert replied. “What more is there to know?”
The committee was aghast, looking left to right before back to Herbert. Their leader had gone mad right in the middle of a meeting. What was worse, he was the principle stockholder of the company.
It took only moment for the schemes to begin to form. “Perhaps we can gain power of attorney…” “Declare him insane…” “Buy his shares before he notices…” and so on. The questioning man continued to sweat, wide eyed, afraid this was all a cruel test.
Herbert, for his part, picked a blade of grass and, clutching it between his hands, strung tightly between two fingers, began to blow against it like an instrument. He had never mastered the art and now seemed like a fine time to do so.