*Nick Carraway's Point of View*
Gatsby lay dead in his own grand castle, his coffin at the foot of his staircase that once held upon it a smiling Daisy as she danced about the halls. Reporters and camera men clicked and chattered away, capturing the scene but distancing themselves from the real tragedy: the fact that the greatest man in New York was dead before their eyes. When they finally drifted out of the house I was alone. I had never felt so alone. I sat besides Gatsby's corpse through the night, holding back tears and feeling his skin turn colder and colder and watching it change into the colors of death. The next morning, I called Daisy again, praying she would answer the phone and have the decency to pay respects to Gatsby. No reply. I felt empty and aghast at her behavior. Again that night I stayed besides Gatsby, feeling hopeless and lost until I heard a noise outside the large windowpane. I was startled, standing up from beside the black coffin and walked towards the window. It was stormy, rain hitting the glass and thunder rattling the frame. The darkness peered back at me, I could not see a thing. Just as I was turning away, mocking myself for hearing things that weren't there, lightning struck and illuminated a pale, teary face outside the window. I nearly screamed I was so frightened, but in that blinding instant I had also recognized the beautiful face. It was Daisy. She smiled at me through her tears and made her way to the large doorway. I swung it open, battling hard against the fierce wind trying to keep Daisy out. She stumbled inside, dripping wet and covered in twigs. "I had to see him, Nick. I just had to. I ran from Tom tonight." I nodded and pulled her into my arms. She sobbed softly against my chest for what seemed like hours. "Do you forgive me?" She finally whispered. I didn't answer. She lifted her head and walked quietly to Gatsby's open coffin. "Oh, Nicky." She managed to get out, before falling into a trembling heap on the cold hard floor beside the coffin. I watched her then, as she took his hand in her small one and kissed each finger. Tears streamed down her face, falling into the folds of her expensive dress. She leaned over his face, kissing his cheeks and forehead and lips, all the while whispering soft sounds of affection and loss to his still body. It broke my heart. "Nicky. Please leave us. I need some time alone." I left the room, a dark sense of foreboding clouding my mind with a storm mirroring the one shaking the windows. I wandered about the halls, entering different rooms. I came across a pile of Gatsby's silken beautiful shirts, and I couldn't help myself as a single tear rolled down my face. After a long time I wandered back towards Daisy and the corpse. I took my time, looking at the dismal pictures on the walls and the smashed statues and vases. I walked back into the room of Gatsby's vigil and felt as if in a dream. Daisy appeared to have fallen asleep, her head upon Jay's chest. I came over, and felt as if time stood still as I noticed something was wrong. Daisy was still. Too still. "Daisy? Daisy!" I cried. She didn't react. I tried to shake her awake, but alas. The Golden Girl was dead. Her delicate hand was curled around Gatsby's in such affection as I had never seen before. She looked at peace. Daisy had died of grief, but in her final moments, it was all about love. She let go to be once more with Gatsby. I stepped away from the scene of tragedy and made my way out into the night.