“Shelton? Are you okay?”
“Yeah, obviously. Of course I am. What makes you ask?”
Hi peered down at his friend, unbelieving. “The twenty one texts you sent me last night? Your Spotify says you listened to Fireproof on repeat last night. That’s your comfort song.”
“I-” Shelton made to reply, but was cut off by the violent crack of a firework outside the bunker.
Try as he might to hide it, Shelton’s flinch was more obvious than a pit stain on a plain white tee.