The Code, not mistakes (part 2)
My name is Karma, Karma Barlett. I am seventeen, an 'orphan', and my twin brother is dead.
Some take pity on my story. I hate pity, pity and sympathy alike. Not that it matters.
Everyone knows the saying about Karma. In my case, the saying fits, in more ways than one.
I walk down the street, it's daylight, so i stick to the shadows of the alley's. I hate cities, but here I am, in the biggest one of all. New York. I'm here to find my dead beat father.
I walk slowly, wincing as my dark sunglasses press too tight against my face. I quietly curse all hangover's under my breath. I stop, slip a hand into my leather jacket's pocket and pullout my cigarette's.
I pull out my lighter and light the sucker. I can feel the nicoten in my lung's.
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