Muhammad Nasir
Stories (19)
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The Stranger Who Knew My Name. AI-Generated.
It was one of those grey, indecisive afternoons where the sky couldn’t decide if it wanted to cry or just grumble. I was walking home from work, headphones in, my jacket zipped up to my chin, my mind lost somewhere between unpaid bills and a life that felt like it was quietly slipping off track.
By Muhammad Nasir5 months ago in Humans
The Memory Jar. AI-Generated.
The Memory Jar It started with a mason jar and a sticky note. My grandmother, always a quiet woman with clever hands, left it for me on the kitchen table of her tiny farmhouse the summer I turned twelve. The note was folded in half and taped to the side of the jar, scrawled in her slanted, no-nonsense handwriting:
By Muhammad Nasir5 months ago in Humans
The Silence Between My Mother’s Words. AI-Generated.
The Silence Between My Mother’s Words I used to think my mother didn’t love me. She never said it outright. There were no tender I-love-yous tucked into lunchboxes, no handwritten birthday cards with swirling letters and soft affirmations. When I was little, I clung to friends’ mothers who wrapped them in compliments and giggles, mothers who kissed scraped knees and applauded mediocre talent shows like they were Broadway.
By Muhammad Nasir5 months ago in Humans
I Lied to Fit In — And It Worked Too Well. AI-Generated.
It started small, like most lies do. I told a group of classmates in 7th grade that I loved a band I’d never listened to. They were obsessed, so I nodded along, memorizing the names they mentioned so I could Google them later and keep the act going. I went home, downloaded the songs, and tried my best to like them. I didn’t hate them. I just didn’t care.
By Muhammad Nasir5 months ago in Humans
The Day I Met Myself. AI-Generated.
I used to think people found themselves in big moments. The day they graduated, or traveled alone, or fell in love. I believed “finding yourself” was some grand epiphany that came dressed like a fireworks show—loud, dramatic, unforgettable.
By Muhammad Nasir5 months ago in Writers
Workaholic Anonymous. AI-Generated.
I never thought I’d be the type to join a support group. In fact, if anyone had told me a year ago that I’d be sitting in a circle of strangers confessing my unhealthy obsession with work, I would have laughed—while scheduling two more meetings before lunch.
By Muhammad Nasir6 months ago in Humor
The Second First Goodbye. AI-Generated.
Story The hospice garden was bathed in the soft amber light of late afternoon, leaves whispering in a gentle breeze that felt more like a sigh than a wind. Clara sat in her wheelchair, fingers curled around the arms like they were lifelines, gazing across the blooms of lavender and white daisies. Her eyes were clear but distant, as if seeing something beyond the garden fence.
By Muhammad Nasir6 months ago in Families
The Letters Never Sent. AI-Generated.
Thomas Callahan hadn’t meant to wander so far from the hiking trail. He never did. But that morning felt different. The air was stiller, the birds quieter. The forest seemed to breathe around him—not ominous, but expectant, like the trees knew something he didn’t. His boots crunched over fallen leaves as the sun filtered through a high canopy of gold and green.
By Muhammad Nasir6 months ago in History
