The Memo Novels & Stories

"Memories from a realm you do not belong to are not yours. Every adventure you seek in the new world won't be in your possession once you go back to your world." Did this mean if time travel existed and that if she took part in it, she wouldn't remember anything from the new world? Like she would lose her memories? Thalia doubted it. She flipped through the book, inspecting it more cautiously. She wasn't exactly a superstitious person in any way, so there was no way all this was real. Shrugging her shoulders, she searched for a pen in her bag and recited the popular saying under her breath, "There's no harm in trying…"

If Alpha Cale knew my background, he definitely wouldn’t think I’m a keeper. He only thinks that because he sees what I let him. Nobody thinks I’m a keeper. I’m just the whore, the one someone pays to be with them because nobody actually wants to be with them. It’s okay, really. I’m leaving in like three and a half days. Alpha Cale won’t think it for much longer. Colt won’t think it. It’ll be forgotten as I’ll be forgotten when I leave. Nobody will remember me when he has his mate on his arm.

This was it, another thing I had to handle, I knew I had to do the talking and the planning and the reasoning since my mother could not be counted on. Once we sat at the dean's office, we were offered something to drink, I choose water, a safe option. I was handed a bottle of water and made sure to not swallow too loud or drink too fast. So, what can I do for you, the dean asked. The dean was an old man, nearing his last days, his hair was grey and neatly kept, his skin wrinkly. he was tall, almost six feet and wore a blue suit. “Well” I started before my mother could open her mouth, “I just moved back home and I would love to enrol in Murrah high,” I said.

I said to Fabian, "Honestly, I don't remember much of our past." His eyes grew red-rimmed when he heard me, but he forced a smile. "Anya, I came to confess something. I won't ask for your forgiveness, but I think I should tell you the truth," he said. "Do you remember the vitamins I gave you a few months ago? They weren't really vitamins but an experimental drug I developed. They can erase parts of a person's memory, and they haven't been released outside the lab."

He stood in the hallway for the count of a held breath and then he walked back to his study and didn't come out again until five. In the morning, at breakfast, there was a deal memo in a manila folder on the marble at my place. He was at the kitchen island. "Read this. Tell me what you'd do with it. Take the day. Don't rush." I picked up the folder. "What's the deal?" "A real one. We are deciding by Friday. I'd like your view by Thursday night." I opened it. The cover sheet was a Marchetti Capital investment memo for a controlling stake in a Brooklyn-based logistics startup. Forty pages. Atlas had already redlined the first eight.

I’m not sure whether he meant to mention it at all, but it was enough to get me here after a G****e search at an internet cafe. The clerk on duty wheels over a cart stacked with cardboard boxes, each labeled with a year. “This is all we have on Halberd,” she says, her tone somewhere between apologetic and skeptical. “Might be a wild goose chase.” I smile politely. “I like geese.” It takes hours of flipping through brittle pages, cross-checking meeting rosters with scribbled phone numbers and signatures. My fingertips start to feel gritty with old paper dust, but then, buried in a folder marked Miscellaneous – 8/2008, I find a memo.

She turned on the phone and looked at the time, and she found that she had accidentally opened the memo unbeknownst to her. Madeline could not remember when she opened it, so she figured she must have accidentally pressed it while she was still groggy. At a glance, she saw that most of the memo was related to work. There were also some trivial details about daily life, such as what to buy for the child after getting off work and what he would give her as presents. The sight of these warmed Madeline’s heart. She could imagine that Jeremy must be at his most tender state when he was writing those memos about them.

I kept working. By ten, I'd cleared most of my inbox. I reached for the folder on the edge of my desk. My hand stopped. The envelope was right there. I looked at it. My fingers hovered. Then I picked it up. The paper was weighty. Quality. I slid my finger under the flap and pulled out the document inside. Unfolded it. Vesper & Lane Marketing Group Human Resources Division Internal Memorandum – Administrative Adjustment Date: Tuesday, 8:00 AM Status: Immediate Implementation

Jonny taps away at his phone then hands it to Spin. Spin pushes it back and says, “Loyalty Amory Marshal twelve thirty-one, no spaces but each of her names are capitalized”. Moments later the printer springs to life and the standard four-page document comes out of it. Spin looks at it before handing it to Jonny, who turns the document to face Meme. “What’s this”?

An unknown number, a text with no message, just an attached file. I opened it standing on the sidewalk, traffic moving past me, the city indifferent to whatever I was about to read. It was a document. A memo, dated five years and two months ago, on Whitman Corporation letterhead, outlining a financial restructuring plan to obscure a series of unauthorized transfers from the corporate accounts. At the bottom, an electronic signature. Vivienne Lau. And beneath it, in a margin note that looked handwritten and scanned in, four words that stopped my heart in my chest.