There is no spoon. Also, no four.

My office is located in a three story building with a basement. If you get on the elevator, you'll see buttons labeled 1, 2, 3, and B (B for basement).

A stranger followed me onto the elevator this morning (I know, I should take the stairs). I pushed 2 for the floor for my office and asked the other occupant, "Where are you going?"

"Four," she said.

Perhaps I misheard her request and needed clarification.

"One?" I asked.

She shot me a strange look: part frustrated, part aghast. "No," she said, "four."

I hit the three button. The elevator doors closed, trapping me inside with the lost office worker.

She looked at me as if I was some strange creature recently escaped from Alice's Wonderland and though she needed to clarify her destination.

"I need to go upstairs," she said.

We're in the basement, I thought to my self, everything is upstairs from here.

"Three is as high as it goes," I told her. "There is no four."

She stared at the elevator buttons with an expression that danced between bewilderment and genuine concern.

"That's strange," she said.

The door slid open and I fled in fear for my IQ. I have never been so relieved to exit an elevator since getting stuck in one at the resort.

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