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     Yes, I have a fear of sharp objects.  I have had a paranoid-level fear since about third grade.  Let me try and briefly describe it.
 

     Running out of the house, Peter craftfully climbed up upon the sink and grabbed the rectangular metallic object out from the medicine cabinet, dropped it in his front left pocket, and started to head out the door.  Before he could exit, his mother yelled to him asking him where he was going.  He walked over and said he was going outside to meet with Robert Lombardi and friends.  She motioned approvingly, he gave her a kiss, and trotted out the door.
     Robert Lombardi was outside with two other boys from the neighborhood.  Gathered together on the stoop of this dreary overcasted humid day, they discussed undecidedly what they were going to do.
     “Tag?”
     “nah.”
     “Hide and Seek?”
     “nah.”
     “Let’s go over to the A&P.”
     “nah.”
     The discussion continued with a list of activities and disapproved brainstormed ideas.  Meanwhile, Peter felt the rectangular metallic object jiggling around in his pocket.  He reached in with his hand and felt the coldness of the object.  It was covered with something rough.  Something paper like.  Feeling around with his fingertips, he could tell it was a sheath of paper that protected it.  Sliding it around with the tip of his index finger, the object felt cold underneath the sheath.  He slowly retracted his hand from his pocket and joined back in with the conversation.  He felt it bouncing around inside his pocket resting up against his leg.
     “Guess what guys?”  A hush formed over the small crowd.  “I found something pretty neat.  You’ll never guess what it is.”
     “Where is it?”
     “Where did you find it?”
     “It’s in my pocket.  Right here.”  Peter pointed to his left front pocket.
     “Where did you find it?  Let me see.”
     “Yeah.  Let me see it.”
     “Okay, hold on.” Peter stood up, shoved his left hand in his front left pocket, pulled it out, and held his hand up high. There was a downward drone in the crowd.  He lowered his arm to see what was so nonspectacular.  There was only a tiny sheath of white paper.  Growing a little bewildered, he realized the metallic rectangle was still in his pocket.  The jiggling inside his front left pocket confirmed this.  Peter convincingly announced, “There’s more.”
     All eyes were upon him.  Gracefully, he shuffled his fingers of his left hand like a magician and waved it back and forth in front of him a few times to note that he was not hiding anything. This was to mark the presentation of something truly astounding.  Their eyes hypnotically followed Peter’s left hand.  He slowly reached into his left front pocket.  Wanting to exaggerate the presentation he pretended to search patiently.  Feeling around with his fingertips, he noticed a small hole that was developing that was not there before.  He thought that this was odd, and his mind wandered to what his mother will say.  He felt around some more and felt the slick metal of the article. It was slippery, cold, and sleek to the touch without the sheath of paper protecting it.
     The expression on Peter’s face grew to that of a smile.  Everyone noticed and awaited the arrival of the great mystery.  He fondled the cold rectangular matter about with my fingertips.  It felt so much more smooth and glassy now.   He maneuvered it upward into his palm.  In an attempt to retrieve it, it slipped  into the depths of his pocket.  Reaching his hand back in deeper, he felt it with his fingertips.  He dug his hand inward and scooped it into his palm.  Tightly he grasped it.  Bewilderedly, the coldness flowed to warmth.  It grew wet inside his pocket.  He loosened his grasp and felt around for it again.  He discovered it was still resting in his palm, but now, just more slick, wet, and warm.  Again, he tightened his fingers around his palm and slowly pulled his hand out.
     There was a shocking gasp from the others.  Peter had not looked yet.  He turned his gripped hand upward.  Warm red liquid protruded from between his fingers and dripped downward onto the cement stairs.  He opened his hand to see what was there.  Seconds later -- that is when the piercing pain began.
 

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