My name is Ayse, and I'm 18 years old. I am originally from Turkey but moved to the United States when I was just a child. Growing up, I always felt like an outsider, as I didn't fit into any particular group or clique. I've always been on the skinny side and have long brown hair that I wear in a braid most of the time. I also wear glasses, which I'm okay with because it helps me see better.
A few months ago, my family and I moved into this new house that we had just bought. It was a big step up from our old place, but there were still some things that needed to be done before we could truly call it home. One day, while I was putting away some of my clothes in the master bedroom, I stumbled upon an old trunk that had been hiding underneath one of the beds. Inside, I found a bunch of old photographs and letters from generations past, but what really caught my eye were the lacy white footies that had been stuffed into a corner.
As I held them up to the light, I couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder and intrigue. Who could have owned such delicate undergarments? And how did they end up in this house? As I continued to pore over the contents of the trunk, I learned that the previous owner had been a woman named Fatma, who had passed away many years ago.
Since then, I've felt like there's something more to this house than just four walls and a roof. Sometimes, when I'm alone in my room, I can almost feel Fatma's presence nearby. It's a strange sensation, but one that I don't mind at all. Maybe she's just looking out for me, like a protective spirit or something.