A/N: All I can say about this drabble is that I've been watching the Great Gatsby and obsessing over the upper-class way of life. Yeah.


Life was surreal now. Life was a dream, a reverie. Memories of a glamorous life being revisited.

Everything came back when the money did. Designer clothes. The credit cards. (Debit cards didn't exist in Caitlin's Gatsby-esque world.) Old friends that "coincidentally" stopped hanging around when the money stopped rolling in for her.

Her social life was everything she wanted it to be. All the upper-class events. All the parties at all the mansions. All the fancy dinners. Everything.

Everything felt like it was hers now. The brightly lit streets of the long nights spent partying (and drinking apple martinis). The gated neighborhoods similar to Bel Air. The high-end shops. The country club.

She wasn't just the gang's Caitlin in her pink tank top and blue miniskirt anymore. No. She was Caitlin Cooke in the Dior gowns and Christian Louboutin shoes. Her jewelry alone was worth more than your life.

Everything came back to her at once in a glorious, euphoric way. Everything bad may have come back, too.

When her father returned her share of money to her, the world was back in her possession, and it didn't look like she was giving it up any time soon.