A personal blog · Singapore

Little stories that give the day a gentle push.

I'm Aisha. I live near Serangoon and Kovan, and I write the small tales I collect on ordinary days â€” the shopkeeper who remembers your grandmother's name, the stranger on the bus with a sentence that stays, the market stall that hums like a chapter you haven't finished reading. This isn't a publication or a brand. It's my reading-room notebook, left open on the table.

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The story I'm sharing first

From Serangoon, listening west — a cousin's messages, sirens I never saw, and no answer I can honestly give.

26 May 2026 · Choa Chu Kang Avenue 2

An Evening at Block 248 — Sirens I Heard from Afar

I was in Serangoon, slippers on, tea going cold, when my cousin texted from the west: something happening at 248. The time stamp read 8.57pm — close enough to 8.55 that I treat them as the same minute in memory.

This isn't reporting. I was not at Block 248. I won't write details I don't have. She described noise — sharp, uneven — then layers of sirens approaching, passing, lingering. She kept her window open though her husband told her to close it.

By ten o'clock her street had settled again. The full entry holds what I can say without inventing the rest.

A collector of small tales

I've always been the person who comes home with someone else's sentence in my pocket. StoryPush is where those sentences land â€” written properly, with room to breathe. I work part-time at a library branch, read too many novels for someone with a laundry pile, and know which kopitiam uncle will tell you about his orchids if you ask.

Most entries begin as scribbles on receipt paper or the back of a due-date slip. I type them up on weeknights, when Kovan is quiet except for the occasional motorbike and someone practising piano three floors up.

The longer version of me â†’

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