“Half-sugar, half-water,” says my friend, as tiny forelegs grasp at the eyedropper. I peer at the drinking insect and note its wings, ragged from the neighbour’s mosquito repellent. Later we watch the bee burrowing into its nest of roses, of ripped-up tissues. We listen to its buzzing, sweeter now, sugar-happy.

Colleen Addison completed a PhD in health information and promptly got sick herself. She now lives, writes, and heals on an island near Vancouver. Her work has been in River Teeth, Painted Pebble Lit Mag, and Halfway Down the Stairs.