Castor or Pollux? by Dan Reiter

I was rewriting the first sentence for the eighty-seventh time when I smelled it. Hot, rancid tang. Funk of Virunga. “Olfactory hallucination,” I told myself. Deleted a word. Added another. A deep graw. Padded thunk of flesh upon wood. Blood thrilled into my legs. I turned around. The cut of the beard, the curl of…