Or clean it off with rubbing alcohol.
Or that. Either way, I don’t take kindly to someone messing with my mail. Which probably came when I realized at 12, that my mother was opening my letters from an equally 12 year old girl, from the Territory of Hawai’i. Or maybe we were even younger, because we became pen pals when a student teacher from Hawai’i spent some time in our 3rd grade class.
We had been writing for a while by then, and suddenly, the letters came to me already opened. *sizzle* So these days, I have a thing about mail being tampered with. (I had a husband or two that did the same thing...)