the river of unknowing NEXT TO THE battered mermaid in the Abruzzi Antiques parking lot was a cement swan with only one wing. Imani stared at it while sitting on the stone elephant, her legs swinging back and forth. Where had the Abruzzis found these broken creatures, she wondered, and why? Who would buy them? She couldn’t imagine anyone going to the trouble of hauling one into a truck and carrying it away. Maybe the Abruzzis had bought them to keep them company. It was warm and bright. Imani slid out of her coat and told herself to stand up and face the eyeball. But her body wouldn’t move. It preferred keeping her at eye level with the stone creatures. She felt at home with them, as if she were part of that unwanted zoo—so full of promise once, but now terminally damaged. Imani lay back on the cool cement of the elephant’s back. The eyeball dangling above was a black spot against the bright blue sky, inviting her confession. But Imani wasn’t sure what her sins were. They seemed to contradict each other.
