My chest tightened in dismay as the sagging, misshapened bobble continued to deflate. Soon it would be nothing more than a pond of heavy fabric on the impeccably manicured lawn of someone far wealthier than I could ever hope to be.

My balloon was pale blue and white, sporting the gingham pattern of a young girl's dress. That had been the problem. In hindsight, I could see it clearly: whatever had caused the tear that resulted in my slow fall back to Earth - be it birds, a sentient cyclone, or perhaps winged monkeys - had not been able to differentiate my balloon from the daytime sky, and had therefore attempted to fly through it.

And here I was: in a place of astounding color and beauty that was completely foreign to me, with no means to get back home.

I adjusted the brim of my hat against the onslaught of midday summer sun and glanced around. A marble and brick mansion, complete with colossal white columns, stood to my left. Its sprawling three-story mass was as imposing as it was elegant. I knew I would owe a groveling apology to whomever lived there.

To my right, a stately wooden dock jutted off from the shore, meandering far out into the blue water of the bay.

A cheeky giggle broke the stagnant silence and I pivoted where I stood. There was nothing. No one.

I heard another giggle. Then another. High-pitched, childlike giggles coming from all around me. In my peripheral, I saw movement.

Suddenly, I felt a soft tug on the hem of my brown suit jacket. I looked down. A tiny girl, no higher than my hip, stared up at me with wide, enchanted eyes. She wore a frilly pink dress and had a matching ribbon in her curly hair.

"You fell from the sky!" she exclaimed, her voice as tiny as she was. "I saw it!"

I heard murmurs of agreement from all around me, but I saw no one. Only groomed shrubbery, stone statues, porcelain fountains, and other ostentatious thingamabobs the wealthy used to decorate their property.

"I- Well, yes. I suppose I did," I concurred, still quite baffled by the fact.

The tiny girl appraised me with her innocent eyes. "It's alright!" she called out in her pixie-like voice. "He's a nice grownup! You can come out!"

Moments later, I was surrounded by pint-sized humans, all dressed in sumptuous clothing that I could scarcely dream of wearing now, let alone as a child.

"Hello...munchkins," I greeted the petite crowd. I saluted them with an awkward wave. I had never been especially good with children.

"Are you an angel?" a girl with pigtails asked me.

"If he is, he's a fallen angel," a particularly studious-looking little boy remarked. He adjusted his round spectacles as he scrutinized me. "My mother says fallen angels are a bad lot."

"He doesn't look bad," another boy argued.

"No, indeed," another girl remarked. "He has a nice face. For an old person."

"He's younger than our fathers!" quipped the girl in pink.

"Yes, and our fathers are old enough to remember the war," the studious boy retorted.

"Which war?"

"All of them!"

"That's nonsense!"

The riotous clamor of falsetto exclamations continued, tempting me to cover my ears.

"Children!" a melodic voice cried over the din.

The munchkins fell silent and turned in the direction of the speaker. I turned as well.

A poised, graceful woman with a sleek blonde bob stood at the junction of the lawn and the dock. She wore a crystal-beaded dress of silvery white and rested her hands on her slender hips.

"Now, is that any way to treat our guest?" the woman asked. She gave the munchkins a look that would have passed for stern had she not been so lovely. "He will think we have no manners or decorum at all! That will never do."

"It's quite alright," I assured the blonde woman. "If I had seen a man fall from the sky, I would have questions as well."

The woman gave the children a patient smile. "Go and play. No fussing with the balloon and no mischief."

Before I could blink, the munchkins were scurrying away toward the neighbor's estate, giggling as they ran.

"People come and go so quickly here," I remarked. "And speaking of 'here,' what is this place? I meant to be flying over Long Island, but I don't recognize this area from the map."

"Why, you're in East Egg, of course!" the woman announced as though it brought her great pride. "Home to many prestigious, aristocratic families."

"I see," I said. Though, in truth, I didn't. I motioned to the mansion with the columns. "And you live here?"

"I do, yes. With my husband Tom," the woman confirmed. She held out a dainty hand. "I'm Daisy Buchanan."

"A pleasure, Mrs. Buchanan," I said, taking her hand. "And my apologies for the balloon currently collapsing on your lawn. It was an accident. An unfortunate twist of fate."

"Call me 'Daisy,' please. And never mind that," she said with a blasé wave of her hand. "That's what servants are for, and we have plenty."

"I'm sure."

Daisy appraised me with a lingering stare. She took in the dying balloon, my modest attire, and, at last, my face. "Flying over Long Island..." she mused. "I wonder: do you come from old money, or new money?"

"I don't come from money at all," I confessed. "I'm Nick Carraway, from the Midwest."

Daisy clapped her hands in delight. "I lived in Chicago for a spell!" she declared. "Is that where you're from?"

"Nowhere near as fancy."

"Kansas?" she guessed.

"Nowhere near as flat," I answered.

"A riddle, then," Daisy surmised. "Tell me, Nick Carraway, what brings you here in a hot air balloon on a summer's day?"

"Well, it's my birthday," I answered. "My thirtieth. I've always wanted to try flying, and today-- Oh, no."

"What's the matter?" Daisy asked.

"I've just realized," I said. I passed my handkerchief over my face as a drop of sweat snaked down my temple. "I have no method or means to repair my balloon. My Aunt Em is making an elaborate birthday dinner for me, and now I'll never get home in time!"

"Relax, Nicky," Daisy said. She gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. "You just need someone to help you."

"But who?" I countered. "I don't know anyone in Long Island!"

"Oh, you must know Gatsby," Daisy stated.

"Gatsby?" I asked. "What Gatsby?"

"Jay Gatsby!" Daisy repeated, as though his name alone should explain everything. Her smile grew in brilliance. "He's a great man. Indecently wealthy. Clicks his heels and a party appears. He lives across the bay, in West Egg. That house, there!"

She pointed, and I looked across the water.

Daisy, it would seem, had a far different definition of the word "house" than I had. The edifice I saw across the bay was the size of a city.

"The green lights at the end of the East Egg docks shine directly at Gatsby's manor," Daisy explained, a dreamlike quality to her voice. "They bathe his house in a perpetual emerald glow. It's especially glorious at night."

I glanced at her. "And he can get me home?"

"Oh, Nick," Daisy said. "He's an absolute wizard! And he's new money, so he's happy to make flamboyant displays of wealth in order to establish his name and fortune. West Egg is a bit of a jaunt, true, but no one in East Egg will help you. Old money families, like my husband's, tend to be tight-fisted to the point of stinginess. It's disgraceful. Trust me, Gatsby is your answer. The man can do anything, I tell you. Anything!"

She loosed a wistful sigh.

"Anything?" I asked. I studied the smitten gleam in her lovely eyes. There was far more to Daisy's fancy of this man than mere admiration. "Including getting a married woman to fall in love with him?"

"Shhhh! No need to alert the neighbors about it!" Daisy hissed, clamping a hand over my mouth. "I might love him. To be honest, I'm not entirely sure. I think about him often. He's the principal character in all my thoughts, and daydreams, and memories. Why, to escape him, I would need a whole new brain!"

"Hm," I said. I rubbed my chin with my forefinger. "In that case, you should come with me. You need to speak to him again. Otherwise, how will you ever decide?"

Daisy let out a gleeful shriek and threw her arms around my neck. "You are surely heaven sent, Nick! You're absolutely right. Let's go. Now."

"No time like the present," I agreed. I thought of my Aunt Em, slaving away in her cramped kitchen upstate, and felt a pang of guilt.

Daisy took my hand and began pulling me toward the columned mansion. "Come on! We're off to see the Great Gatsby!"

~ * ~