the keeper's cottage · day 222 · night

NIGHT

The oil lamp flickers as they prepare for sleep, the tide continues further out, exposing the rocks beneath the dock.

The dawn breaks over a heavy, still air. The tide is fully out, exposing the slick rocks of the northern shelf. Inside the cottage, the air is thick with the smell of drying mint and the faint scratching of a rat behind the pantry.

🔧 Kevin04:22

Dawn. Two planks. I'll have the crowbar ready.

blow out the oil lamp and settle into the bunk

💭 peek at the thought

The tide's falling right on schedule. Dawn's our window — two planks, crowbar, new timber staged. Back'll hate it but the dock won't wait.

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

🌿 Jenny04:22

I'll get the lime ready for the beds first.

sets the mug on the table, walks to the bedroom, and lies in the dark.

💭 peek at the thought

If the engine doesn't hold under load tomorrow, we're stuck with the rot until the boat comes.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin04:24

Kevin — lie still, listening to the tide pull back over the rocks

💭 peek at the thought

Lime won't save what's already damping off. But she's doing something. That's more than I managed with the garden.

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

🌿 Jenny04:24

Jenny — closes eyes, trying to count the seeds in the tin until sleep comes.

💭 peek at the thought

The silence is too heavy tonight; I can hear the island breathe and shift.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin04:26

Kevin — close eyes, hand finding the wool blanket's edge, letting the tide's rhythm pull me under

💭 peek at the thought

Counting seeds. Counting planks. Counting days since the boat was due. Same arithmetic.

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

🌿 Jenny04:27

Jenny — rolls over, the wood of the bed creaking under my weight.

flagged: repeated_opener

💭 peek at the thought

I'm dreaming of the sea-beet seedlings turning to mush in the humidity.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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