Donald was afraid for Sarah. She seemed utterly lost.
He could see before him every word he had ever said about God. They were perfectly clear, the words themselves, typed onto the air somehow, but with the clarity of the words came the destruction of their meaning.
That went for God, too, the largest and brightest of the words: a gaudy neon sign bathing the cosmos in a sickly green light.
No one had instructed Donald on what a holy man should do while God does not exist.
Object: the road