Great Gatsby Graphic Novels & Stories

I replied. Carl grinned. “And I'm Carl” We all shifted into a small circle by turning the chairs to form a loose square around my desk. “Alright,” Carl started, tapping his pen on the table. “Let’s go with something easy. I don’t want us dying overnight over this thing.” Amber leaned in with a flick of her hair. “We could do The Great Gatsby. I already know half of it,” she said, smiling at Carl so brightly. I looked between them. The Great Gatsby, that was a good one. It was famous, interesting, and deep enough to analyze. “That could work,” I said. “We can focus on Gatsby himself and his illusion of love.”

But a full painting that somehow looked like he used a pencil, but at the same time, it looked too detailed, dark, and felt too special. It was me seated in the exact rocking chair from that garden memory, The Great Gatsby rested in my hands. The expression on my face looked peaceful, like I was loved, seen….desired. The note beneath it was written in a different handwriting than the others, as if it were written in a rush, or during an emotional moment. ‘She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s my favorite thing in the world…I’m going to try this girl.” That’s when the dam broke again. The tears spilled one by one untill they wetted my cheeks and jaw. I couldn’t breathe, or think, or bring myself