Kevin and Jenny sit at the kitchen table while the warm rain drums against the roof. Jenny watches the barometer as the mercury dips steadily toward 980 hPa.
The morning rain continues in fits as the barometric pressure holds at a steady low. Jenny attempts to manage her ankle infection while Kevin checks the cottage supplies and monitors the coming storm. The air is humid, and the smell of salt and damp earth lingers.
🔧 Kevin08:22
Holding at 984. Steady since 0400. Northeast's easing.
pour coffee from the kettle into two tin mugs, set one in front of her
💭 peek at the thought
She's watching it like it's a verdict. I've seen that look — same one I get when the Yanmar's running rough and I'm waiting for the knock that says it's done. Barometer's at 984 and holding steady per the log, but she sees something I don't. Or she's waiting for me to say the word first. Either way, the dock's held through worse. Oak wedges, greenheart shim, collar clamp — all seated at last low tide. Shackle housing clean. We've got nine days until the supply boat's due. Nine days of this.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny08:23
The barometer is lying, but the wind says otherwise.
Wrap both hands around the warm mug, letting the heat seep through to dull the throbbing in my ankle.
💭 peek at the thought
The pressure is dropping, but my leg feels like it's being held in a vice.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin08:24
Wind's backing. You feel it in the joint?
stand, pull oilskin from the hook by the door, check the radio aerial through the window — insulator's still intact, spare porcelain sealed with self-amalgamating tape
💭 peek at the thought
She's right. The needle says steady but the cottage walls breathe different — that low hum in the rafters, the way rain hits the porch at a slant instead of straight down. Northeast backing, building. She feels it in the ankle before the glass moves. Always does. I should've checked the dock lines again at first light instead of assuming the wedges held. Pride. Stupidity. Same thing.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny08:25
I feel everything today.
Take a slow sip of the coffee, eyes tracking the red streaks just visible above the edge of the bandage.
💭 peek at the thought
He thinks it's the weather, but it's the rot moving up.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin08:26
Show me.
set my mug down untouched, pull the chair around to her side of the table, reach for her ankle — fingers hovering, asking without words
💭 peek at the thought
Red streaks. Tracking. That's not doxy working — that's it laughing at doxy. She's hiding it from me, turning the mug so I see the steam not the skin. I saw the heat last night when I rewrapped. Said nothing. She said nothing. We're both shit at this. Metronidazole's for anaerobic, not streaking cellulitis. She needs IV. She needs the boat. Nine days. Maybe less if the wind holds northeast and the supply skipper's got sense. But the radio's dead to Tom, dead to mainland. Only the handheld VHF in the ditch bag, and that's line-of-sight to a boat that isn't here.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny08:27
It's just the damp, Kevin.
Pull my leg back slightly, my hand tightening the grip on the mug.
💭 peek at the thought
If he sees how far it's gone, he'll call the boat. I can't leave the seeds.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin08:28
Damp doesn't streak red up a calf. Show me. Now.
stay seated, hand still hovering, not forcing — but not leaving either
💭 peek at the thought
She's pulling away. Literally. The ankle's hot under the bandage — I felt it last night, felt the skin tight as a drumhead, saw the red fingers creeping up the calf. She knows. She's choosing the lie because the truth means the radio call at 0600 changes from "she's steady" to "come get us" and Tom's frequency stays static and the supply boat's nine days out in building northeast swell. My ankle throbs in rhythm with hers. Metronidazole day two. Doxy day two. Neither's touching this. The barometer's lying. The wind's telling truth. Northeast backing, building. Dock lines will sing by midnight.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny08:29
I'm fine. I just need to sit.
way reach for the edge of the gauze, my breath hitching as the fabric catches on the skin.
💭 peek at the thought
way isn't going to stop. If I show him, everything is over.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin08:30
Kevin — reach for the first aid kit on the shelf, pull out the last of the doxy blister, the metronidazole, the antibiotic cream tube — empty — and the clean gauze, set them on the table between us
💭 peek at the thought
She's peeling it back. Good. Let her see what I saw last night — the angry red web climbing past the bandage line, the weep at the edges, the heat radiating like a stove. She thinks she's protecting me from worry. I think she's protecting herself from the decision that comes after we name it: call the boat, burn the fuel, leave the island and the contract and the garden and the nine days of pretending we're fine. My gut's tight. The wind just hit the porch glass sideways. Rain's not warm anymore.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny08:31
I was going to do it myself.
Slowly peel back the bandage, my fingers shaking as the red, angry skin is exposed to the cold air.
💭 peek at the thought
The cream is gone. I knew that, I just didn't want to look.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it