She is a doll. Wide-eyed and pink-cheeked, head surrounded by a halo of yellow curls, she toddles into the Mansion and observes her surroundings shyly, quietly. She couldn't be more than two years of age--on the cusp of three, at most ( Read more... )

Well isn't this interesting? Last thing I remember, I was going out to my pool... *shakes his head and sticks his hands in his pockets* Jay Gatsby. Something tells this isn't West Egg?

Typist: Gatsby, from The Great Gatsby. Back with his original typist! Enjoy, all.

It was a Tuesday. I remember it quite clearly. Now, I can't say for certain how I happened upon the place, but nevertheless there I was. It was a grand place, I likened it right away to Gatsby's place. Large, alive. I don't know how long I stood silent as I tried to gain my ground. I surveyed the room once, twice, thrice, before I closed the door ( Read more... )