Memo Balloons Novels & Stories

Do you remember me? After thinking for a long moment, North finally took a deep breath and rubbed her hands together before cautiously texting, [Mr. Leon, it’s North. I don’t know if you remember me or if you’re even still active on Telegram, but I wanted to thank you for the wedding rings you designed. If you ever come to Peacevale, I hope I’ll be able to thank you in person.] After sending the text, North suddenly felt that the message was not respectful enough. She was wondering if she should delete the message when she heard a beep, making her eyes widen.

“I wonder if your mother would’ve changed her mind and named you something else if she would’ve known your name didn’t quite match your personality.” “It’s not my personality,” Memory corrected. “I just get... distracted. I can remember important things. Like people’s birthdays. And favorite colors. And recipes for snickerdoodle cookies—even if I don’t remember to take them out before they burn.” “Now that I’m glad you can remember,” Bryce agreed. “Well, I should get to work.” “What’s that?” Memory asked, noticing a flyer in his hand. The red and green trim looked similar to the one she’d seen blowing down the street earlier.

She continues, “You’ll have enough time in between to get your hair redone, nails, and anything else. Just book the services at the spa Mate Match uses and swipe the company card.” “Yes, ma’am. How far is it this time?” I sigh, realizing my time with Alpha Colton is dwindling and I hate the feelings I’m feeling. “This one is local as well, White Crescent Pack.” Hearing that name brings up a familiar, almost deja-vu kind of feeling, yet I swear I’ve never heard it or been there before. Hmm, weird, I could even feel my wolf surge forward. Oh well, I’ll see what that means when I get there.

“Reasonable. But I am not the city.” “Nor will you always be the city,” Lucien said. “We legislate for the worst man who will inherit your tools.” The donor’s ribbon twitched. “Conspiracy theories,” she murmured. Maera held up a receipt with jam on it. “Receipts,” she said. “You want names? Take ours.” She set the paper down on the table. VENUE: Valehart, FOYER. HINGE: YES. HOURS: When grief arrives. “This is the only registry worth the word. We are not hiding. We are refusing to be catalogued.”

"We're the Sullivans, and one of us might marry Summer someday. You’d better watch out, or you might lose your jobs!" I heard him and laughed, but I was really mad. "Acting all high and mighty in front of my hospital room? I don't even know you guys. Why would I marry any one of you?" Nelson ran up to me, trying to grab my hand, but I pulled away. His eyes were red, as if he had been crying a lot. "Summer, I talked to the doctor. He said you might have lost your memory because of the surgery. "It's okay. If you forgot us, we'll make new, happy memories together. It'll be our way of making things right, okay?"

Everywhere I looked, the room was adorned with colorful decorations, the air filled with a sense of celebration. Balloons of various sizes and vibrant hues danced and bobbed in the air, their strings cascading down like joyful raindrops. Streamers hung from the ceiling, adding a whimsical touch to the atmosphere. The scent of freshly cut flowers wafted through the room, infusing it with a sweet and fragrant aura. My heart skipped a beat as my gaze landed on the words written across the balloons: "Happy Birthday." A soft chuckle escaped my lips as I realized that I had completely forgotten about this special day, lost in the bliss of our shared moments. Liam had taken his time and effort to c

My gaze was on the window, my eyes trailing another which was of the color purple floating by with an inscription on it reading 'Good morning, my queen' I couldn't help my heart swelling at the moment as I placed my hands on the glass leaning forward to see another balloon pass describing how much he loved my smile I couldn't hide my grin as several balloons popped up floating in sight with some plain with the prettiest of colors while the others had endearments. 'moy malen'kiy lunnyy svet.' My little moonlight. 'Malyshka.' 'I am the luckiest man alive to have you.' 'I will always be your grump.'

And it did work, I didn't notice that I survived that day without being jealous of the others for that whole day. The next painting on the other corner still on the left side shows a bunch of broken things. An eyeglass, vase, face mirror, and a phone that has flooded with unread messages. Only the phone has the blood on it. This is the painting I made the day my parents told me that I will be engaged to someone.

Date = 28 April Four days without incident. Place = San Francisco (UCSF Medical Center) But we’re not nearly done with this place. Leyla is gonna be here for a while. POV - Enrique “Hurry, doofus,” Mel scolds, wagging her finger like it might actually do the job for her, “the pink ones must go in the middle.” I stare at the colossal bundle of balloons in my hands, feeling like an idiot. “They’re all fucking pink.” Latex tangs in my nose.

The bond was growing, and it was only a matter of time before they would have to confront it fully. This morning, Kael had asked her to meet him. The invitation had been brief, a simple gesture, but it still sent a flutter of nerves through Leora’s chest. She didn’t know what to expect. There had been no word of what was on his mind—no cryptic message or hint of what they would talk about—but the moment she stepped into the clearing, she knew something was different.