Glass Birds Annex
- Sep 26, 2025
- 4 min read
by Sacha Bissonnette
I had a dream last night but you weren’t in it.
***
I saw your little brother at Canadian Tire. He never really got any taller. He just grew into his face. I asked him where he worked and he said “here” and that it was whatever. He used to make music. I asked him about your mom and dad, and he said your mom was alright but that your dad had died last year. Your dad made us cordon blue once and joked about how much cologne I was wearing. I asked about you. He said you were out in the boonies. I was afraid of why or with whom. So I walked off. I wanted to ask if you were happy now. Who made you smile? Would you last there?
My girlfriend and I were buying birdseed for the feeder on the back porch, because sometimes, the yellow finches, the little ones, get so close you can wrap your hands so gently around them. And they’re precious like glass but soft and also warm.
Before we cashed out, I ran back to your brother. He was fidgeting with a tool.
“Say hi to your sister for me ok? Make sure you do. Please.” I wanted to hug you through him but settled on a wave and a shuffle backwards.
***
I bought you a Beanie Baby for your ninth birthday. It was black and white like me. I picked a necklace to tie around it. I was shaking, I was so nervous and insisted on giving you your gift later in private. Not because it meant more that way, but because after seeing all the girls give you their gifts, I felt like if they saw mine they would know how much I loved you.
You then all dressed me up like a girl, in a blue dress with frills and it wasn’t too bad but you blasted me with that cheap perfume and it got in my eyes and it burned. I was allergic to so much. Still am.
In high school we were there together, but apart. We had people to care for us then. Part of me hoped you judged who I dated, whispered under spiteful breath that I could do better, and that better, was you. In theater class you learned to act, like it didn’t matter, and shit didn’t matter, and we know now more than ever, that the opposite is always true. I watched from the roughed up grey of my locker, with a hand on her ass, you slipping out of my reach.
And then in Toronto. You were in college and that was a lot for you and maybe I was too pushy. Maybe you didn’t want me there but you didn’t tell me that. What twenty-something-year-old could communicate then. We had just learned to fit into our sweaty bodies, to use our mouths, our spit, and now we were swapping fluids with each other and others. Words weren’t the focus or my strong suit then.
I flew to you. Rushed to see your new place, to have time to hold you close. But your shrink said I was no good. So I guess I’m no good.
In Ottawa it was messy and you were dating him but kissing me. But loving him and haunting me. Last year I tried to write a ghost story about you. How if I got a chill, it was you passing through me. How I was haunted by your face on others. Saw you turning corners. How I placed you inside other girls. And then held them at a distance to punish you. Or them. Or you, them.
The last thing you did was send me the picture you took of me on that little green disposable. You thought I should have it. My smile was so wide, all teeth, ear-to-ear. You were purging me and I didn’t even realize.
***
I had a dream last night and you weren’t in it. In the dream, your brother had passed on my message. But you weren’t able to talk. You sent your bestie and she sat on my kitchen counter and she told me you weren’t ready yet. And that’s when I woke up.
When I go to sleep tonight. If I dream again. Will you visit me?
Will you visit me?
Sacha Bissonnette is a reader for Wigleaf TOP 50. His fiction has appeared in Witness, The Baltimore Review, Wigleaf, SmokeLong, ARC Poetry, EQMM, Terrain, Ghost Parachute, The NoSleep Podcast, and more. He is currently working on a short fiction collection and a comic book adaptation of one of his stories. His projects are supported by the Canada Council for the Arts, the Ontario Arts Council, and the City of Ottawa. Sacha has been nominated for several awards, including the Pushcart Prize twice and the BSF three times. He was selected for the Wigleaf TOP 50 in 2023 and 2024, the 2024 Sundress Publications Residency, and won the 2024 Faulkner Gulf Coast Residency. Find him on X @sjohnb9 or at sachajohnbissonnette.com.
