I dream forgetfully, retain just a suggestion of something thwarted. My husband dreams of murder, all hands-on: noose, bludgeon, knives. He’s under orders to kill, demurs, he says, in vain. This is a man who dispatches prolapsed chickens, mice, once a muntjac fawn half-garrotted on a wire fence, a man who salts ox tongue, … Continue reading ‘Mercy’ by Kathy Pimlott