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I have an irrational fear of sharks. I grew up in landlocked towns in Georgia where there’s more wheat than water. My first adult home was Atlanta, with freshwater ponds and swimming pools. Then New York, a city surrounded by water but easily forgetting that it is. Speeding taxis, falling debris, food poisoning – those were legitimate fears in NYC, not large fish with teeth. As an adult, my childhood nightmares stopped, but the fear was still there, vague and shadowy. I finally realized it was never about the sharks. The real fear was the unexpected disaster. The real fear was how quickly we can get pulled under.