Door in the mirror
 

While passing the minivan I glanced at it. Its polished side was reflecting the wall with graffiti and there was a door. When I turned to the wall there was no door. Then I turned to the minivan and there was I in the mirror and the door behind me. Following myself in the mirror I took small steps toward the door. I felt the wall with my back already. Still looking in the mirror I groped the door and took its knob firmly in my hand. I turned it and the door cracked open but I couldn’t see what was behind it. I pushed it open but I had to step through the doorway to open the door. At the same instant, I was standing again with my back to the wall and there was no minivan.