Hobson's

The day my wife died, I was saddened but relieved.

‘What a dedicated husband!’
‘I wish I had a man like you!’
‘An absolute treasure, one in a million!’
‘The best husband a woman could have!’

That’s what our friends had said.
They spoke as if I’d had a choice in the matter, as if I minded that for years she’d been unable to live a reasonable life. They wouldn’t have said that if they’d known that I suffocated her with a pillow. Not because I wanted to relieve her suffering, but because I wanted a life of my own.