A Bronsonian Geometry

Amerigo awoke this morning and soon found himself alone, on a bike, bound for work. His eyes were watering from the chill wind in his face and the tears were freezing to the collar of his coat and to the hair hanging over his ears. It was 4 degrees. He didn’t mind the tears, but they pulled the trigger on some hidden gun inside him that made him sad. This sadness swept inward until he could feel the muscles in his cheeks twinge and jaws begin to clench and his body began to respond to the new sadness that had crept over him in the icy morning air. He reached a point just over halfway through his ride where he began to cry.

When he arrived at work, Amerigo produced a frozen tear from his collar blown by the wind into a perfect sphere. He held it up to the rising sun and beheld the beauty of mathematics and openly wept.

This is that story.