Weeping For a Missed Chance by The Lady Arianrod
disclaimer: F. Scott Fitzgerald wrote the completely amazing book that is The Great Gatsby.
A/n: This is a short scene based on Daisy's weeping over Gatsby's expensive shirts in the book. "He" is Gatsby, of course, and "She" is Daisy.
She finally enters his house. He cannot believe that she is there.
She floats in upon the summer breeze, not giving a second thought to the world or even the man. He stands still, in awe, as if basking in the light of some dream.
She does not think about what could have been; to her the past is lost. He believes that, in this moment, in this heaven-sent summer, the past will return to him.
He has lived for this moment. All of the parties, all of those nights.... and now she has finally come and he cannot say a thing.
She walks throughout his house as if it is just another part of the world. He follows her like she is his entire world. She thinks back on the times with him fondly, and doesn't mind spending the day with her.
He looks into the past and the present, not quite Janus. To him, 1917 and 1922 are identical twins.
She remembers his parties as if they were hosted by any faceless millionaire. She remembers the low, sweet buzz of the music that continually flowed from the main doors and called her back inside.
He thinks of nothing but his flower. She is golden, far above the rich and above any truth. She is even above fate to him, for he created his destiny based around her. She is a soft green light.
She steps away from him a bit, always moving, always out of his reach. He watches her, still believing that she is his dance partner.
She sighs, bored of life, only looking to return to another happy time. She sees his face glowing amongst the others in 1917, and she is comfortable with his face.
He is with her but still hungers. She casts a long shadow of nebulous ambiguity. These shadows drive them apart, for they are not meant to be together.
He steps past the wavering outline of her shadow, entering the untouchable world of impossible desire. She welcomes him into her fickle lair and they spend a fleeting moment together.
The sun is setting, he sees, but he does not want to believe it. He shows her one last thing, a collection of beautiful shirts. They are made of silk and come in the exotic colors captured by thousands of dollars.
She stops for a moment, and sees a message in the threads of these clothes.
She sees what he has truly done, and how he has truly tried. She weeps stormily for a moment for that which could have been.
Then she dries her eyes just as quickly and keeps on walking. He follows her like a dying star, always falling. His vision of the green light dims.....
End Notes: Hmm.... I rather liked how this odd little piece turned out. It was simple and had many pronouns, but that was my intended style. I truly love the Great Gatsby and think that everyone should read it.
Review if you are a Gatsby fan or if you liked or disliked it.