The letter came shortly after new years, almost half a year after Gatsby left myself and his home behind.

Old Sport,

It has taken too long of a time for me to find an empty moment to write to you. I apologize for the length of time I have been absent.

I will not be gone for too much longer. I have sold all of my underground businesses to a trusted person, and in return he will be taking good care of myself and soon Daisy as well. I miss Daisy quite a bit, how is she? Hopefully she and Tom have finalized their divorce by now. I'm ready to hold her close for the whole world to see.

I heard about Mr. Wilson. Poor fellow is at peace now, as I am sure.

I hope the house is not as empty as you may feel it is. I always felt as though there were too much space for one person. Host many parties, they help, as I have noticed.

We will have to catch up Nick. You are one of my dearest friends, and hopefully after I return we can continue our adventures together.

Sincerely Yours,

Jay Gatsby

My stomach twisted. He knew some things, but not enough. My response letter was no problem to write, although I strained to respond to his last paragraph. I settled for a "see you again soon," and called it good. It was nice having someone write to me after so long.

I made the decision to return to Gatsby's room, but for a different reason. I sat on the edge of his bed, eyes closed as a soaked in the atmosphere. I felt his energy around me, almost as though he was still there. Everyday after I received his letter, I would return to his room, and reread the letter. It felt as though Gatsby was right beside me, a company I longed for. I was infatuated with Gatsby's words without the man even being there.

I had raced to the mailbox every afternoon in hopes of another letter, but none came. All that did was create fear. Jordan used to calm my nerves, but her absence could do nothing to assist my thoughts.

I slipped into a depression from all the solitude and dark, dreary days. I had begun to see a therapist, but the meetings began to revolve around Gatsby. While I was unable to actually get around to talking about my depression, I found comfort in talking about my journeys and fears concerning the whirlwind that was Gatsby.

Some sessions became strange, though. The therapist would look at me oddly if I got into too much detail about Gatsby. Our sessions ended abruptly after I confessed my need to be in Gatsby's room, and how I had held his pillow, hoping it was the man instead.

All that did was leave me just as depressed as before, if not worse.

I sunk into a further solitude, drinking heavily and spending my time reading in Gatsby's room. Once, I spilt a dab of red wine on the pillows, and the next day, I came in to see all the pillows and blankets freshly cleaned. Much to my disappointment, the scent that drove me into entering the room was gone. But, the energy was still just as present. One day I decided to dance in there as Klipspringer played his piano, and it felt like someone was dancing alongside myself. I tumbled onto the bed hot, sweaty, and happy from the feelings I got.

These were a few of the many ways I found a home without anyone else, and I began to be just as happy as I was before I met Gatsby. I still drank quite a bit, but all it did was multiply the joys of my days in the mansion.

Spring had came, and so had the realization I forgot all about work during the winter months. I panicked at first, but soon came to the understanding that until Jay returned, I did not necessarily need a job.

I still hadn't received any new letters from Gatsby for quite some time, and I was getting the gnawing feeling of loneliness once again. I sat in his room, reading the letter to myself, as the idea struck. I stared at the words, and then my mind was made up.

I called for all the butlers and maids, and I had all the companies and bands that Gatsby used called up and reserved. And for the first warm day of the year, I threw the grandest of all parties, one that put all of his to shame. Although his lack of presence was painfully obvious to me, not a soul knew Gatsby disappeared. To them, he was throwing the first party of the year. For the first time I was in his shoes, walking unacknowledged through the crowds of my own party. It lasted for much longer than I anticipated, the party not truly ending until days later.