She was long gone. That was the last time I saw Daisy Buchanan. I still
heard things about her, not good things, like that she sunk into a
deep depression. A man can move from one coast to the other, but news always
permeates. It's funny though, or rather not, that one day, one car and
one white envelope can inflict so
much damage.
That day, we went our
separate ways: I, into the sea where I helplessly resist the current
and she, on the quest of trying to be a beautiful, little fool, into
the sea where she helplessly follows the current.
