The postal clerk asked the typical and mandated question: “Does this parcel contain anything fragile, liquid, perishable, or potentially hazardous, including lithium batteries and perfume?”
(Technically, I believe she did not mention "including lithium batteries and perfume.")
I responded, "I don't think so. Are words perishable or hazardous? It's a book. I guess words can be perishable or hazardous."
"I guess you have a point."
Upon post-shipping reflection, I concluded that words can indeed be fragile (the infinite space between yes and no is but one fragile example), liquid (flowing in several directions, pliant, not solid, moving, healing as a balm), perishable (even set down on paper, words can be lost, burned, evaporated, forgotten), and potentially hazardous (yes, subversive too; think of the Declaration of Independence, or a declaration of war or marriage vows or divorce decrees or papal bulls or misreadings of traffic signs).
But I nevertheless betrayed my vocation and craft by answering "no" to the clerk's query.