Why do I have to describe my messed up life to you? Why would you care? Why do people call me names? We'll at least I have Death...? This is a story of a girl named Karma. Who has insecurities about her life and how she runs it. Or should I say lives? She begins to grow tired of the constant complaining of the common man complaining about there life. She thinks to her self about how "at least they have one" (in the usual stance and the literal stance) She has to battle out many different life problems that anyone can can complain about. Karma is no ordinary girl, she is a witch of the age 1123 and the perfection of a nineteen year old. A blonde with a slowly progressing crush on a child hood friend... Death. Who is only a few years older than her with a similar job. If you can guess what that job might be. Death is built like a male model and looks like a shadow of the night, and the humor of a game show host. Who could have make a better companion for Karma herself?