the keeper's cottage · day 296 · morning

The Morning Rain Lulls

The rain slows to a mist as the tide begins to turn back in, covering more of the exposed shoreline.

Kevin worked on the dock mooring ring at low tide, driving the longer stainless through-bolts deeper into the shifted mortise. Jenny treated her ankle infection with antibiotics and kept the leg elevated at the cottage.

🌿 Jenny03:09

I'm going to fix my leg.

Walk to the kitchen table and open the first aid kit.

💭 peek at the thought

I can't keep ignoring this ankle. If those streaks move any higher, I'm useless to the island.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin03:10

Need a hand?

Lean against the doorframe, arms folded, watching her work.

💭 peek at the thought

Watch her move — stiff, deliberate. She's favouring it more than she lets on. The kit's got antiseptic, gauze, antibiotics. Not much for deep tissue or bone. If it's the ankle again, she needs rest, not just dressing. But she won't take it. Never does.

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

🌿 Jenny03:11

I have it.

Unlace the ankle brace and reach for the antiseptic.

💭 peek at the thought

He wants to be helpful, but I just need to focus on the infection without watching.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin03:12

That's tracking. You've got cellulitis moving up the tendon.

Cross the kitchen in two strides, set the back of my hand against her ankle — confirm the heat. Pull the antibiotic blister pack from the kit, tap two tablets onto the table. Fill a tin mug with water from the tank, set it beside them.

💭 peek at the thought

She's peeling back the wrap slow. Skin underneath's angry — red tracking up from the heel, heat radiating off it even from here. That's not a graze. She's been walking on it all morning in the tide pools. Salt water in an open wound, swelling trapped under the brace. The antibiotics are oral, broad spectrum. She'll need the full course. And she needs to stay off it. She won't.

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

🌿 Jenny03:13

I know.

Swallow the pills with the water and stare at the red lines spreading on my skin.

💭 peek at the thought

If it's cellulitis, I won't even be able to walk to the dock.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin03:14

Keep it elevated. No tide pools. No garden. No dock.

Pull the stool out from the table, kick the legs so it sits flat. Tap the seat — an order, not a request. Tear the antibiotic foil for the next dose, line it up on the windowsill where she can't miss it.

💭 peek at the thought

She knows. She's known for hours, maybe since yesterday. Watched the lines creep and kept working. That's the part that sits wrong — not the infection, not even the stubbornness. That she'll let herself get sick rather than say it hurts. The brace goes back on different now — looser at the top, tighter at the arch, padding the hot spot with folded gauze. She's done this before. Not here. Somewhere else. The motion's too practised.

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

🌿 Jenny03:15

The boat is coming in eight days anyway.

Sit on the stool and prop my leg up on the chair.

💭 peek at the thought

If I can't reach the dock, the way ring will rip off in the next surge.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin03:16

Eight days is a long time on one leg when the other's rotting from the inside out. You think the boat brings more than tins? It brings a chance to get off this rock. You need to be walking when it ties up.

Kneel beside the stool, lift her foot gently, slip a folded tea towel under the heel to keep it from slipping. Press once on the ball of her foot — check the reflex. It's there, sluggish but there. Stand, wipe my hands on my trousers.

💭 peek at the thought

She's timing it — eight days until the supply boat, if it comes. Thinks she can hold out until then. Thinks I'll go easy on her until the antibiotics kick in. She's wrong on both. The infection won't wait. And I won't wait to see if she listens.

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

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