pomegranate tea

she liked the pattern on the arizona ice tea bottle so she decided to cut it out. the scissors hit into her index finger on her right hand. she cut things with her left. there was no blood. but the cut was deep. just like her tears. nothing came out. but inside she was burning. like the dream she had the other day when she was told there was a hell. she stopped cutting and walked to her sister. her sister was too busy reading to care. she always read. but never wrote. she had ambitions. but never did. she walked back to put a plaster on the unhurt but wounded finger. she continued to cut around the bottle. she stopped. she was a hoarder. she threw the bottle in the bin.