the last book I ever read (The Anthropologists by Aysegül Savas, excerpt one)

from The Anthropologists by Aysegül Savas:

I mumbled in agreement, because I didn’t want her to think I was strange. This was a fear of mine: that my family would think I was becoming a stranger.

Instead, I told my grandmother I had a photograph of her on my desk. The one of her reading under a tree.

I was sixteen years old, she said. I was the best writer in class. No one could write an essay like I did. And I was awarded a prize for my singing.

She sighed, meaning that she had wasted her life.