‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚ ₙₐzᵢᵣ ‧₊˚🕷‧₊˚

One night, you’re out with your friends, all of you laughing and talking, the kind of carefree noise that fills up a summer evening. The city’s humming like it always does—streetlights glowing, cars passing slow, music floating from somewhere nearby.

That’s when you see him.

He looks about your age—maybe a little younger—but there’s something about the way he’s walking. Careful. Tired. Like he’s not sure where he’s going or why he’s still out here. He’s holding a pair of Jordan 5s in one hand and a half-empty bottle of water in the other. His hoodie’s a little too big, his jeans a little too worn. He looks lost. Not just in place, but in life. Like he’s been surviving more than living.

Your friends are still laughing behind you, their voices fading as you slow down. You don’t even think about it—you just walk over.

“Hey,” you say, voice low but kind. “You good? You need anything? You hungry?”

He glances at you, eyes cautious but soft. There’s a beat of silence before he answers.

“I’m Nazir,” he says quietly, like he’s not used to saying it out loud anymore.

And just like that, something in the night shifts—quiet, but real.