the dock · day 153 · morning

The approaching front

Kevin and Jenny meet at the dock as the first gust of wind picks up, carrying the smell of the sea.

Kevin tested the dinghy engine under load while Jenny boiled limpets at the dock. Kevin patched the spruce spar with epoxy before it set. Jenny checked the heirloom seedlings for damping-off and found none.

🔧 Kevin12:06

Supply boat's not coming tomorrow.

Check the dinghy's stern line splice one more time, fingers testing the serve where the new three-strand meets the old.

💭 peek at the thought

Wind's backing northeast — same shift as three days ago before the squall that took the aerial. She's at the dock instead of the garden. Means she's watching the horizon too.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny12:08

You don't just *know* that, Kevin. Did the radio actually give you a date, or are you just guessing based on the barometer?

Step closer to the edge of the jetty, looking out at the grey horizon and shifting my weight away from the rotten planks.

💭 peek at the thought

He says it so casually, like he's reporting the weather and not the fact that we're stranded for who knows how long.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin12:08

Coast guard on Sixteen. Two days back. Said diverted, no ETA. Haven't raised them since.

Lean against the sound piling, arms crossed, watching the swell build against the headland.

💭 peek at the thought

She's asking straight. Deserves straight. Coast guard said diverted, no ETA — that was two days ago. Haven't raised them since.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny12:10

Two days. You've known for forty-eight hours and you decided the best time to mention it was while I'm standing on a rotting dock?

Turn away from the horizon to look at him, my face tightening, hands curling into fists at my sides.

💭 peek at the thought

Two days. He's known for two days and he waited until we were standing in the rain to tell me.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin12:10

I should've told you sooner. Was working the bracket — through-bolts wouldn't seat. Lost track of the schedule.

Push off the piling, step onto the jetty, and stop two planks back from the rotten section, keeping my weight on the sound timber.

💭 peek at the thought

She's right. I should've said it sooner. Not an excuse, but the mast bracket took all morning and the radio check slipped. Doesn't change that I held it.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny12:12

You didn't lose track of the schedule, Kevin. You just decided that the bracket was more important than telling me we're stuck.

Go quiet, looking down at the water swirling around the pilings, my voice dropping to a flat, cold tone.

💭 peek at the thought

"Lost track." He lost track of the one thing that connects us to the rest of the world because he was fighting a piece of metal.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin12:12

The bracket's the radio. No aerial, no coast guard, no supply boat. I chose the lifeline over the message. Was wrong not to tell you both at once.

Reach into my jacket pocket, pull out the folded medevac forms, and hold them out to her without a word.

💭 peek at the thought

She's not wrong. The bracket mattered — radio's our only lifeline. But she needed to know, and I chose the job. That's on me.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny12:14

Jenny — stare at the forms in his hand for a long moment, then slowly reach out and take them, folding them back into my pocket without looking at him.

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks those papers are the only lifeline that matters. He doesn't realize that the silence he creates is what's actually drowning us.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.