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How a mentor can help you tell recovery fact from fiction


I looked down at my feet and there it was.

A tiny sandshark.

My (obviously equally tiny) brain was suddenly gridlocked in processing.

Sandshark. On concrete. Far away from any water, salt, or sand.

How could this be?

The next thing I knew, a thousand tiny neurons fired up their guns to come to the exact same conclusion at the exact same time.

“Shannon, it’s not a sandshark. It’s a leaf.”

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