There is a small stone slipped into the lock in the upstairs bathroom door. When I spotted it I had an immediate image of some small child realizing that the tiny rock in her or his hand was just the right size to slip into the hole. Except that I couldn't imagine which child it was, she or he must have been small -3 or 4 or 5? and I can see that moment of revelation-- hole equals rock; and empowerment-- I can put the rock in the hole; and then realization of the new problem-- the rock went in the hole and now it won't come out. Is this bad? Solution? Don't tell mom.
I found it yesterday. It has probably been there for 12 or 15 years. They leave, but their ghosts linger.