All Roads Led To Hell, Until Gps

*Image of Global Positioning System by Rankr. All Roads Led to Hell, Until GPS An attempted refolded map resolved itself against a ruffled sort, the championed driver -- not of cars, GPS constants a dashboard as a storm flit to nonexistence, ado about the guy at the wheel flits with it, chuckles as dawn speaks and sunrise glints at a trustful eye, an oiled motor now runs cooly, slightly fresh tire scarring rolls on, a car stops on the side of a country lane, an idling engine idles a bevy of doves perched on a limb, opts for a U-turn as an all clearance was taken, a mouth forces years of hardened cells upward, donning anew emerges, whistling attuned to a suite medley of birdsongs while fingers push a fedora near a car ceiling, stops at the florist, the candy store, and longer at the jewelers, sounds of a car parking in the drive, a woman wiping to dryness look sees a mirror, a throat clears and coughed to a soothing, and hair is being fussed, a trembling stand eases to absence, a door being faced down a hallway opens, a bouquet of roses, a candy box, a gift box, and a rugged man fall in unison fronting an entry doorway, weeping in glad tidings calls outwardly, "Look what my GPS said!" a shocked woman rushes forward to kneel, The solid man raised his GPS to her ever-widening eyes, GPS read out, "God Promises Salvation," Two souls lived contentedly until their hereafter in bliss. 2022 August 18