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The next day, Gatsby told me all about how he and Daisy had been in love, five years ago. It became clear to me that he truly believed he could go back and change what had happened.
Later that day, as Gatsby was preparing to go for a swim in the pool he hadn't used once all summer, two gunshots rang out through the otherwise quiet afternoon.
We found him floating in the pool, me and some of his old staff. It was only later that someone saw Wilson's body a little ways off, lying in the grass.
I searched through his contacts, called everyone, but nobody came. I finally got hold of his father, who came to New York.
It was just the two of us at his funeral, us and another man whose name I didn't know who had attended some of his parties.
I ended up breaking up with Jordan, to whom I never spoke again. I went back to Chicago shortly after.
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