Back at the cottage.
The air is heavy and still as the 28°C heat of the dry season peaks. The tide is receding, exposing the rocks near the dock, while the barometer continues its slow drop to 984 hPa, signaling a change in pressure.
🔧 Kevin19:15
Kevin — walk to the bedroom to check the shutters
💭 peek at the thought
The air inside the cottage is thick and close, smelling of woodsmoke, drying herbs, and the faint, sweet rot of the sea beet on the table. Jenny's asleep on the porch, finally. The barometer on the shelf reads 983, needle stuck like it's glued. Four days until the supply boat — if it comes. I need to check her ankle again before the next dose, and the bedroom shutters still aren't done. My hands are itching for a wrench.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny19:15
Check the latch twice, Kevin.
sit at the kitchen table lay out the tweezers and the antiseptic.
💭 peek at the thought
The pressure is dropping again. My leg feels like it's pulsing in time with the tide.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin19:17
Latch held last check. I'll run them again.
walk to the bedroom and test both shutter latches, leaning weight on them
💭 peek at the thought
She's not asleep. She's at the table setting out a suture kit for a wound that doesn't need stitching — just cleaning, dressing, and time. The tweezers are snapped at the tip. Useless for fine work. She knows it too. "Check the latch twice" means she heard the wind shift in her sleep, or felt the pressure in her bad ankle. She's telling me the bedroom shutter isn't tight enough without saying the words.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny19:17
Just make sure they won't rattle.
peel back the bandage on my ankle and look at theので.
💭 peek at the thought
He's hovering. I can feel the heatradi off my skin.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin19:19
Shutters are solid. No play in either latch.
stand in the bedroom doorway watching her work, arms crossed
💭 peek at the thought
She's looking at the red lines. Mapping them against the pen marks from last time. The tweezers sit useless beside her — she's not using them, just her eyes and fingers. Good. The infection's not spreading past the marks. Skin's hot but not blazing. No new streaks. The antibiotics are holding the line. She already knows this. She's checking for me, not her.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny19:19
Then sit down and hold the light.
pick up the tweezers and carefully debride the edge of the infection.
💭 peek at the thought
He's looking at me like I'm a way pinned to a board.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin19:21
Headlamp's on the shelf by the radio. Better angle.
fetch the LED headlamp and clip it to the bedpost pointing at her ankle
💭 peek at the thought
The tweezers are broken. She's using them anyway — picking at the wound edges with the snapped tips like they're fine instruments. Stubborn. Both of us. The light from the porch window falls across her face at a bad angle. She needs the LED headlamp, not me standing here blocking what little sun there is.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny19:21
I can see fine enough.
flinch as the tweezers touch the sensitive tissue, biting my lip to keep from humming.
💭 peek at the thought
The light is too bright. It makes the angry red of the skin look clinical.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it