I watch as the green light pulsates across the bay. Jay Gatsby was obsessed with the meaning of the light. James Gatz would not have batted an eye at the strange light.

I walk along the dock and stare at the light. That damnable green light.

James Gatz. His father. The priest. And then me. Only we showed up.

I sit down slowly on the edge of the pier. The green light is so close to Tom and Daisy's large house. The house behind me, usually so brightly lit, is completely dark. Meanwhile, Daisy's house nearly burns my eyes in the darkness.

She did not show up. She never would have. She did not, and does not, care for him. She was, and is, simply a fool.

Gatsby was obsessed with her. Her and that damnable green light. The green light that he had been sure led him to her.

Perhaps it did. Perhaps he reached his green light. Perhaps she was his green light.

Then what was I? I had brought him to his green light. Helped him reach it. What do you call the one that helps one reach their green light?

A yellow car. The idea shoots into my mind. I laugh, sounding insane, even to me. I have felt insane every moment after the one when I lost him.

Before they drained the pool, I had dragged myself over. The water was red. Wilson's body was red. Gatsby's body was red.

But not in the casket. His skin was perfectly clean, his suit unmarked. He was in his Sunday best. It looked wrong.

It was an open casket funeral. I was there long after Mr. Gatz. When he and the priest left, I got my first and last kiss with my love. Then I closed the lid forever.

I wept alone. I wept alone for hours. I screamed, cursed, and wept alone. No one was there for me. However, I couldn't be bitter. I was not there for him during his final moments.

I almost slip into the water. I catch myself just in time. I become aware of thunder in the distance, and catch sight of a flash of lightning.

I have always hated storms. As the sky grows even darker because of this one, the damnable green light seems to grow brighter. It is taunting me.

The rain starts to fall on my back. More thoughts have entered my head. What is my green light? Have I already reached my green light? Will I ever reach my green light?

With a jolt, I find my answer. I know what my green light is. I smile sadly.

"I'll come swimming with you now, Jay. I'll come swimming with you now."

With those words, I slip into the dark, unforgiving water.