In a panic, he jumped and started jiggling the handle in an irrational attempt that actually panned out: the door opened with no effort. He looked at the other side of it, while still standing in the doorway, and he wasn’t even surprised to confirm that it was indeed one of the narrow staff doors leading to the restricted section. A golden cursive marked the door JC. He looked inside again and found it transformed into a closet barely two by three, with an old mop sink in one corner and cleaning supplies stacked neatly in the other. An ironic grin upturned the corners of his lips.
“The broom closet? Really?”
The problem with understanding reality is not that we can’t see it for what it is, it’s that we do see it, but explain it away because the findings don’t jibe with our mental model of what it is supposed to be.