Still, we move on...
I think about Gatsby quiet often. Mostly, I think of the days after his funeral, which no one attended. I broke up with Jordan. I couldn’t be what she needed at the time. She’s too good for me. She could have anyone. Just not me, but I don’t regret it. It was fun while it lasted. But too much has happened.
I met Jay’s father, Mr. Gatz. He was so excited to see his son’s home and all the treasures that filled it.
I visited Tom and Daisy after Gatsby’s funeral. They were leaving East Egg. Tom told me that Mr. Wilson came to them with a gun, ready to murder. Tom told him that Gatsby drove the yellow car; he murdered his wife.
What to do now. I’ve sold my car and I’m moving, sadly, on to something else. What that is, I’m not sure. But I got one last look at Gatsby’s home, and I imagined seeing him on his dock, reaching for the green light. He believed it that light. Maybe I can too, one day.














