People die every day, but what if that was your 9 to 5. Wake up, clock in, die and then head home. The monotony of life is crucial already, what about the monotony of death...

I still have the newspaper clipping. It's a picture of me the first day of my existence, at least, it's the first day I remember. That was three years ago, when a photographer snapped the photo of me walking weirdly around the scene of a deadly car accident. My pale skin shone brightly against the wreckage as my blonde, almost white, hair hung limply past my shoulders. Unlike the people inside the vehicles, I was uninjured.

When Mel finds the perfect guitarist to make her dream of a singer come true. What will happen when a long the way a few chords bring them close together.