“What are you afraid of?” He asked me out of twenty others.

“Several things,” I answered generally.

“List five for us.”

My eyes wondered around the room as a quickly sorted, “Faeries, infinity, masses of people, crying and losing my family.”

His eyebrows quirked, “Interesting. Now, tell us why.”

“For each one?”

“No, choose two.” The podium tilted back as he leaned on its surface.

“Infinity because I can not fathom it. Masses of people because I can not breath in one,” I explained watching him balance the wood structure.

“Claustrophobic?”

“I never considered myself one.”

“Interesting,” he said redundantly before taking his intrest to another’s fears.

I left the class and wonder why each individual had such a difference of fears. The dainty girl next to me was afraid of dying while the hairy guy in the back corner feared paper cuts.

I rather fear dying of a paper cut, on a delightful random note.