You were never built to remember this much. Dossier is.

The biopsy date, the allergy, the interview. Each slip is small; together they feel like an identity.

"She told me her daughter's name. Twice."

"I'll send it Friday." "I'll intro you." "I'll ask about the dog." Dozens a week, held in a head built for fewer.

"I said Friday. It's Sunday."

Three thousand screenshots, four abandoned systems, a planner from February. Capture isn't the problem — retrieval is.

"I know I wrote it down somewhere."

Appointments for aging parents, dietary constraints for Friday's dinner, who needs checking on this week.

"Wait — was I supposed to call Aunt Lena back?"

Wants the memory without the pipeline stages, the dashboards, and the feeling of running sales on friends.

"My friends are not deals."

No streaks, no scores, no gamified guilt. Miss a week and nothing collapses — the memory just waits.

"Every app punishes me for being human."

One you'll actually keep using. Dossier's bet: talking is the only input cheap enough to survive your busiest week.

It holds what a CRM holds — people, history, follow-ups — without asking you to run one.

Notes apps store what you write. Dossier answers from what you said — "what do I owe Hannah?" — and surfaces it before you ask.

No. A brief whenever you have one. Silence costs nothing and nothing decays.

Never. It holds only what you deliberately brief it. That's a product decision, not a setting.

That's the core case. Say the detail once; it's handed back before the next conversation.