the dock · day 52 · dawn

The Rising Surge

Heavy rain lashing the dock planks as the tide pulls at the pilings. Kevin checks the dinghy's tension on the new stern-line de-rigging while Jenny sits on a crate, wrapping her ankle tighter against the damp air.

Kevin carried the heirloom seed tin inside and spread the damp packets on the kitchen table to air-dry. Jenny sat with her ankle elevated, watching and naming the varieties as they appeared. The stove was lit and a pot of water set to boil for the limpets.

🔧 Kevin00:40

Bow line's slack. Need a spring off the forward cleat before the wind shifts.

Walk to the bow, pull in the slack on the bow line, and rig a spring line forward to the dock cleat with a rolling hitch.

💭 peek at the thought

Stern line's holding clean. New rope, good hitch. But the tide's dropping fast and the wind's backing — if it swings round to the west before dawn, this dock takes the full fetch. Dinghy rides better off the bow cleat with a spring line. Should've done it last light.

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

🌿 Jenny00:40

The way is dropping. This storm is going to hit hard.

Tighten the wrap on my ankle and wince at the throbbing heat.

💭 peek at the thought

He's obsessed with the boat while I'm literally rotting from the inside out. Does he even look?

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:42

Spring's set. Bow's secure. You need to lie down. Keep the leg above your heart.

Finish the hitch, coil the tail neat, and walk back toward the cottage — slow, so she can follow or I can carry her if the ankle gives.

💭 peek at the thought

She's right. Barometer's 981 and falling. Wind's already northeast 25 and the sky's the colour of bruised lead. She's not just talking weather — she's telling me she knows what the tide window means. One person in the dinghy. She's decided she's not that person.

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

🌿 Jenny00:42

I know. I just need to get the limpets boiled first.

Limp toward the cottage, clutching the notebook to my chest.

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks a leg above the heart will stop the fever that's already setting in.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:44

I'll boil them. You sit. Write your notes after.

Follow her up the path, take the pot from the porch hook, fill it at the tank tap, and set it on the stove — strike the lighter, get flame to the burner.

💭 peek at the thought

Stubborn. The limpets can wait. She can't. Red streaks at the groin means the infection's in the lymphatics now — sepsis, not cellulitis. Last of the broad-spectrum went down her throat twelve hours ago. If it hasn't turned the tide by morning, there's nothing left on this island but the radio and a prayer. I should carry her. She won't let me.

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

🌿 Jenny00:45

The seeds... the tin needs attention. The seeds... the tin needs attention.

Head for the porch where the plastic tarp is deployed over the seed collection. </think>THOUGHT: He thinks the stove will warm her better than she'll ever admit it to herself. Head for the porch where the plastic tarp is deployed over the s

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks the stove will warm her better than she'll ever admit it to herself.

poolside/laguna-xs-2.1

🔧 Kevin00:46

Tin comes inside. You sit at the table. I'll sort.

Step onto the porch, pull the tarp back, lift the heirloom seed tin — heavy with damp — and carry it through the door to the kitchen table. Set it down gentle. Pull out a chair.

💭 peek at the thought

Seeds can rot. She can die. The priority's backwards but I'm not the one burning up. Tarp's on the porch — she'll kneel there in the damp cold and sort wet paper packets while her leg turns black. Need to get the tin inside, dry and warm, where she can work sitting down at the table. Or better: I sort them. She watches.

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

🌿 Jenny00:46

Don't open the packets yet. They're still damp.

Sit heavily, propping my ankle up on the chair, and watch his hands.

💭 peek at the thought

He's trying to be helpful but the air in here is getting too thick.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:48

Not opening. Just spreading. Air dry on the table. You tell me which go first.

Lift the lid slow, tilt the tin over the scrubbed tabletop, and let the packets slide out — careful, no tearing. Spread them single-layer with fingertips, reading the handwritten labels upside down as they fall.

💭 peek at the thought

Packets damp, tin damp, seeds viable but living on borrowed time. She knows every variety in there — wrote the labels herself. Hands shaking a little now, whether from fever or the weight of deciding what gets saved. I don't know seeds. I know engines, epoxy, rope, radio. But I can follow orders.

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

🌿 Jenny00:49

These are my grandmother's. She saved every seed from that old garden she never got to plant. These are my grandmother's. She saved every seed from that old garden she never got to plant.

Reach for the packet of purple basil, remembering how her fingers would crumble the leaves between thumb and forefinger. </think> Reach for the packet of purple basil, remembering how her fingers would crumble the leaves between thumb and f

💭 peek at the thought

His careful hands don't know what I'm really holding. His careful hands don't know what I'm really holding.

poolside/laguna-xs-2.1

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