I rarely ever saw Gatsby come outside. I would occasionally see him and his shadow at night standing on the balcony, but that’s as close as I came to him. He was a very mysterious man. Maybe he was so busy he never had time to stick around his house. Who knows, but I am curious to know more about him. There are rumors that he bootlegs alcohol for a living, but those are only rumors. You can’t believe everything you hear. Gatsby was a peculiar man that I was very anxious to meet. Earlier, Miss Baker had recommended that I call him and invite him over for dinner. So I did, but I didn’t get an answer. I’m thinking I’ll try again tomorrow, but this time, I’ll ring his doorbell. This morning was like any other Saturday morning, but there was a little more excitement and nervousness. Just imagining the idea of going over to Gatsby’s place was difficult to swallow. Being anxious, I quickly ate my breakfast, got ready and headed over to Gatsby’s mansion. I had just got out to the road and it had already seemed like hours. I don’t know what I was worried about. After all, he was just like any other person, just with a little more money. I turned into his driveway and stared up at the mansion. His property was well maintained with the hedges neatly trimmed. The flowers stood up straight not moving a muscle. The house just stood there, towering over me making me feel weak. My knees started shaking and I felt a pit in my stomach. I heard this crunching sound that seemed to get louder as I walked