A Six-Word Memoir® is the story of your life—some part of it or all of it—told in exactly six words.

In classrooms and boardrooms, churches and synagogues, veteran's groups and across the dinner table, Six-Word Memoirs have become a powerful tool to catalyze conversation, spark imagination or simply break the ice.

Here on Six Words, we offer a simple platform to share the short, sharp story of your life, as well as provide daily prompts to share your six-word takes on the topics of our times.

More than half a million short stories have been shared here. Read more about six.

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Six Word Memoirs
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I don’t know how it happened.

by EnMasse on October 2, 2011   |  FacebooktwitterTumblr

I braked too hard, the front wheel went right, and the bike was still moving forward; then in two seconds I knew there was no recovering. I spilled onto the pavement right in the center of the crosswalk with an entire audience of cars waiting for the light to change. It was one of those odd moments when you find yourself in a spot and wonder for a second or two how you got there. I was lying on the roadway, legs tangled in my bike while the glare of headlights hit me like stage spotlights. I felt utterly ridiculous and was having a time of it trying to scramble up and get out of the way. You can’t trust Miami drivers. They are liable to run you down for the amusement of it. But my knee was hurting, my shoulder and back were jarred. I was worried the traffic light would change and I would be toast. Then one lady got out and came over to help. I thought great, at least that lane won’t move. Then someone from the front car of the other lane got out and I was somewhat lulled into a false sense of security. I was still trying to get the bike off of me when the lady pulled me up by my arm, to which I was eternally grateful since up until that point I was not being very successful at it. Finally an older gentleman runs over from the sidewalk and picks up my bike and takes it to the sidewalk. It was difficult to see faces because the car headlights were literally in my eyes. I was thanking the whole crowd quite profusely, if sheepishly since I was a bit mortified at making such a spectacle of myself after I was having such a nice ride. The lady that helped me was saying I should’ve worn a helmet and I just agreed with her. Probably a good idea but shoulda, coulda, woulda hasn’t happened because I’ve never worn a helmet bike riding. As a matter of fact, tonight, because the mood overcame me and I was hankering to go riding before it got too dark, I was particularly inclined to let my hair loose so it could go where it wanted


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