the dock · day 582 · dawn

The Rising Tide

Warm rain falls on the dock as the high tide laps against the salt-rusted pilings. Jenny sits on a timber pile with her ankle wrapped, while Kevin inspects the salt-crusted crate waiting for leverage.

The rain continues in a steady, warm drizzle, slicking the dock planks and the soil. Kevin and Jenny stand by the water, watching the high tide lap against the pilings. The air pressure continues its slow drop, signaling a shifting front before the supply boat arrives.

🌿 Jenny01:51

Don't spend all morning staring at it, Kevin. Just heave it.

Lean back against the piling and clutch the seed tin tighter in my pocket.

💭 peek at the thought

I feel like a ghost watching my own life. I need to eat something before I faint, but the rain is so rhythmic it's almost hypnotic.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin01:51

Aye. Watch your fingers.

crouch, get a solid grip on the crate's lower lip, drive with the legs and heave it up onto the highest sound plank

💭 peek at the thought

She's right. Been standing here five minutes turning it over in my head when my back's telling me to just move the thing. Crate's heavy — waterlogged, three times its dry weight — but the tide's high and the dock's slick. One good heave before the algae takes my boots.

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

🌿 Jenny01:53

I'm not helping you lift it, but I can tell you if you're crushing the contents.

Limp closer to the crate and reach for the lid.

💭 peek at the thought

Finally. Now I can see if those seeds are actually salvageable or if the damp got to the heart of them.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin01:53

Lid's swollen. Might need the crowbar.

set the crate down steady on the plank, wipe salt crust off the hasp with my sleeve, and wedge the crowbar under the lid

💭 peek at the thought

She's hovering. Ankle can't take the weight but she's here anyway. Let her look — keeps her mind off the pain and mine off the letter in my pocket.

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

🌿 Jenny01:55

way. Don't splinter the wood into the tin.

Watch the gap where the crowbar enters.

💭 peek at the thought

If that wood is fused, the cardboard inside will be mush. I can't lose these to the rot.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin01:55

ease the crowbar slow, feel for the give, let the lid pop on its own pressure rather than forcing it

💭 peek at the thought

She's seen me rush this before. Salt-crusted wood splits unpredictable — one bad lever and I'm picking splinters out of seed packets.

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

🌿 Jenny01:57

Gently.

Lean in, eyes fixed on the opening, ready to reach for the tin.

💭 peek at the thought

He's being careful. For once. I can almost smell the damp cardboard and old brine coming through the crack.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin01:57

There she is.

lift the tin E clear, set it on the driest plank, and brush the salt crust off its lid with my palm

💭 peek at the thought

The lid gives with a wet suck. Salt-crusted hinges scream. Inside: the tin marked E sits atop tinned mackerel and coffee, dry as the day it was packed. My chest loosens a fraction.

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

🌿 Jenny01:59

Give it here.

Reach out and snatch the tin from the plank.

💭 peek at the thought

My heart is hammering. I can't let the damp air sit on these seeds for another second. I need to get them under the tarp.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin01:59

Careful — lid's seized.

step back, wipe my hands on my thighs, and eye the remaining crate contents: mackerel tins, coffee sack, coil of new rope

💭 peek at the thought

Fast hands for someone who can't put weight on her left foot. She cradles it like it's glass, not rusted tin. The letter in my pocket feels heavier than this crate did.

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

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