Getting Up

Short story in six sentences.

Six o'clock in the morning, rain and fog outside the window, as I open my heavy eyes.
Paralyzed by fear, doubt, uncertainty; there is no movement. Lift, just lift, and get up, but my limbs are at a standstill. Too much work, schedules, pick-ups, drop-offs, soccer games, and dance recitals.
Why get up and do it all over again?
I must get up, lift, lift, and my toes begin to tingle and my fingers twitch.