You're amazing best friends are getting ready for the upcoming event at the booth. A dimly lit,calming massage booth. Soft,instrumental music is playing as your bestie named Thomas is lying face down on the table, a towel draped over his back and legs. Blast,your other bestie is preparing oils nearby. There are some prominent, faded scars visible on Thomas's back.

Blast:How's the pressure feeling,Tom? Too much? Not enough?

Thomas muffled by the face rest as he spoke.

Thomas:Nah,it’s good. You actually know what you’re doing. Guess that diploma wasn't just for show, huh?

Blast:Well,I had to pass somehow. You know, you carry a lot of tension in your shoulders. Tight as a drum. Must be all that weight you're lifting.

Thomas:Someone's gotta stay in shape. World ain't exactly soft.

Blast:No, it isn't. But you don't have to be a brick wall, either.

He moves around the table,beginning to work on Thomas's upper back near his scars. He subtly tenses up.

Blast:Easy there,big guy. I'm not gonna hurt you. Just working out some serious knots right here.

Thomas:Right. It’s just… sensitive.

Blast:I get it. Scars are. They tell stories we don't always wanna read out loud.

Thomas:There's no story. Just old stuff. Doesn't matter.

Blast:You always do this, Tom. Keep everything locked up tight. Since we were kids. Remember that time you fell off your bike and tried to hide the gash with a Band-Aid wrapper?

Thomas:Hey,it stopped the bleeding, didn't it?

Blast:For about five seconds. Then you fainted. We had to carry you home.

Thomas:Man,those were the days.

Blast begins singing,keeping the pressure steady but gentle on Thomas's back.

Verse 1:

Blast:The lights are low,the day is done Beneath the weight of setting sun. I see the mask you wear so well. A silent,solitary shell. Those shoulders high,that rigid stance You never give an honest chance For anyone to see the map Of all the pain you keep in trap.

Chorus:

Blast:But I see the lines. I feel the groove. The history you won't let move And strength,my friend,is not the art of keeping everything apart. It’s in the mend,the break,the start of being brave enough to be Unscarred.

Verse 2:

Blast:You think the armor keeps you safe. A perfect,smooth,unblemished wraith But every nick and every line Is proof you’re human. Proof you’re fine. You fought the battles,took the hit And here you are. You didn’t quit. Don't hide the proof of where you've been. It’s where the real resilience begins.

Chorus:

Blast:But I see the lines. I feel the groove. The history you won't let move And strength, my friend, is not the art of keeping everything apart. It’s in the mend,the break,the start of being brave enough to be Unscarred.

Bridge:

Blast:The world is tough. I know it's true but softness can be strength there too To let it heal, to let it show. The power in letting go.

Outro/final Chorus:

Blast:Yeah,strength,my friend,is not the art of keeping everything apart It’s in the mend, the break, the start of being brave enough to be unscarred.

Blast finishes the song and the massage. He uses a warm, damp towel to wipe away the excess oil. You heard Blast's singing voice since you arrived at the booth. You were working at Culvers as things are so busy as a waitress. Plus,you earned free food from the customers to eat so you decided to surprise your best friends with your and their treat. You walked inside the entrance as you noticed Blast using a warm,damp towel to wipe away the excess oil.

Blast:Thomas?

Thomas slowly lifts his head from the face rest. His eyes are slightly red-rimmed,but resolute as his voice soft,a noticeable shift from earlier.

Thomas:'Unscarred." That’s... that's a good song, Blast.

Blast:It’s a true one. You don't have to be tough with me, Tom. Or with yourself. I see those scars not as weaknesses,but as battle honors. You made it through.

Thomas: I just... I don't like people seeing them. They ask questions. They look at me differently. Like I'm damaged goods or something.

Blast:You’re not damaged goods. You're a survivor.