The Memo Novels & Stories

"Talk." "Good evening, ma'am. I know you are busy..." I could hear the hesitation in her voice. "Linda," I called out, cutting her off. "What happened?" "It's here." "What?" "The memo." "Linda! If you can't speak clearly, then get off my phone." "The Russians sent the contract memo." I stilled as she kept screaming in joy. "We got the contract! Congratulations!" A proud grin curled onto my lips. "What did you expect? Kiara Monroe always wins. I always get what I want, how I want it." I breathed in. "I will be at the office tomorrow." I hung up. My grin blossomed fully into a smile.

I tell him. “Over a cliff man.” And with that he ends the call. I start the car and head back to office so Mac and I can run more film.

Right? Lucia had given her boss two hard copies and an email version of her memo right before he walked out the door on Friday afternoon. She’d barely slept all week, between her regular work, texting Avon , writing and editing the memo every night, thinking about Avon, and, oh yeah, stressing about the upcoming weekend. Thursday night, she’d made her last edits on the memo, after copious notes from Nolan, and had packed probably way too many clothes for a weekend trip to L.A.

He moved to the machine, pressed three buttons, and then handed three metal helmets to my parents and Steve. “Mr. Zeller,” he explained carefully, “once the three of you sit down and put these helmets on, you’ll be able to view the subject’s memories through the built-in visual interface. Based on her brain activity, she’ll only be able to recall three memories. Anything beyond that is extremely dangerous and could cause brain damage, seizures, bleeding, or permanent memory loss.” “Three times is enough. The first one should be about Emily’s disappearance. She definitely knows something,” Steve said impatiently as he grabbed a helmet and sat down beside me.

Three years had gone by, and here we were, still at the starting line. I lowered my head, not expecting anything anymore. I knew Eric would go back on his word the moment Tiffany shed a tear. So, they brought me to the pack's Sacred Hall, where the statue of the Moon Goddess stood tall in the center. The flame around the altar pulsed with a cold, piercing light. The elder overseeing the ritual looked grave as he warned me, "The Memory Offering is one of the oldest forbidden rites. It burns your wolf and projects your memories for all to see.

Making memories is important to others. ___________________________ Now, today is Haru's birthday, and this is what Carmen, Tyler, and Nicole really don't want because they know in themselves that they will only have a few hours or days to hide what they know from everyone. Tyler looked around and here he saw the laughing Nikki and their colleagues in the hospice, his gaze turned to Arche's father and Katelyn's current wife, who was grilled, then his gaze turned to Katelyn and Callista, that the mother and daughter were playing happily, and last, he turned his gaze back to Nicole and Jasper were watching sadly looking at Arche and Haru, who were laughing happily.

The woman started to sob and Seigfred was laughing so hard as he watched her wiping her tears. “Boss.” “Chona, I am not terminating you as my Executive Assistant, okay? I just want you to inform the Human Resources Department to make a Memo and give it to the building guards for compliance.” Still laughing, Seigfred instructed. “Thank you Sir. What would be the content of the Memo?” Smiling now, Chona asked. “The Memo should state that Rhoda shall not be allowed to enter the premises of this building and dereliction of duty relative to this means, displacement from work. Got me Chona?”

STARLIA I wake up alone, with no sight of Mr Moretti and a note where he should be sleeping if my memory from last night serves me right. With a yawn, I take the note and examine it; 'Breakfast is on the table, I'll be back soon.' It reads, signed Adrian.

She hates me and leaves. Freya comes back. I pretend and sneak around in hopes that she does not find out. It won't work. It's the wedding of the year. She hates me. Oh, God. My computer beeps. Since I have notifications set for each app, I know it's a memo. Scrambling my thoughts for a moment, I clicked to open it. Smith Industries sent me a memo. It's a copy of the agreement between the three companies. Thompson. Smith. Dean. All three of us now?

"Understood. Now: the bank memo. You mentioned the memo explicitly stated code 3821. Did Claire attach an internal ticket that showed who created the memo?" "Yes," I said. "Claire said the memo was attached to a ticket and the ticket had a trustee liaison's email chain. Corbin photographed the ticket and the bank preserved the original under seal." "Did you see the ticket content?" Navarro asked. "I saw a redacted copy in Claire's secure room," I said. "She redacted client names. But the memo and the ticket number were visible. The memo

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