the keeper's cottage · day 594 · evening

writing the letter to Tom

Kevin and Jenny gather in the cottage as the sun begins to set. The trade wind shifts slightly as the evening heat breaks.

Kevin monitored the shortwave radio through the evening, hearing only a fragment of a news broadcast and static. Jenny rested with her ankle elevated, the infection contained but still painful. The barometer held steady at 1008 hPa as the tide fell.

🌿 Jenny17:25

The tank is full enough for now. Three hundred and eighty-two.

continue to shade the cellular structure of the sea beet leaf in the notebook.

💭 peek at the thought

The salt water stings, but the sketch is coming together. I need to finish this page.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin17:25

Three-eighty-two's plenty. Porch bolts are done. Yanmar held steady at load — no vibration past half throttle. We're tight for the boat.

pull out the tin mug, pour the last of the limpet broth, set it on the table beside her notebook

💭 peek at the thought

She's keeping count. Good. Means she's still here, still measuring. The tank number sits right. The bolts are seated. Engine's clean. Only thing left is the letter in my pocket and the tide that wouldn't drop.

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

🌿 Jenny17:27

Good. Maybe the boat actually comes.

take a slow, painful sip of the warm broth while resting the pencil against the paper.

💭 peek at the thought

Everything is so loud, so mechanical, while my leg feels like it's on fire.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin17:27

Boat comes when it comes. We're ready either way.

sit on the stool opposite her, wipe the wrench grease from my thumb onto my jeans, watch the pencil move across the page

💭 peek at the thought

She says it like a joke but the broth sticks in her throat. Ten days the trust said. Sometimes twelve. Once sixteen. I've stopped counting the gaps.

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

🌿 Jenny17:29

I just hope they have antibiotics this time.

trace the jagged edge of the salt gland on the sea beet sketch.

💭 peek at the thought

He's so sure of the world while I'm struggling not to rot.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin17:29

Radio check at dawn. If they're in range, I'll ask. If not — we've got the poultice. The salt soaks. You're holding the line.

reach across the table, finger brushes the edge of her sketch — the salt gland detail — then pull back, let the silence sit

💭 peek at the thought

Four doxycycline left. Metronidazole done. She's tracing the gland structure like it's a map she's memorising. The infection's held at the line I marked. But the heat's not breaking.

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

🌿 Jenny17:31

I'll check the radio first.

close the notebook, the graphite smudging slightly against my palm.

💭 peek at the thought

He doesn't see the way my hand is shaking when I draw.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin17:31

I'll take the evening watch. You rest the ankle.

stand, mug in hand, walk to the radio shelf and flip the power switch — the familiar hiss fills the cottage

💭 peek at the thought

She's taking it. The radio watch. Good. Means I don't have to say the rest — that I've been listening on Tom's frequency every night at 2200 and hearing nothing but static. That the letter in my pocket has his name on it and nowhere to go.

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

🌿 Jenny17:33

Don't way up too late.

lean back against the stone wall, watching the red light of the radio pulse.

💭 peek at the thought

The static is the only thing talking to me now.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin17:33

2200. Then sleep.

settle into the chair by the radio, mug warming my hands, dial already set to 6200 kHz — the supply boat's frequency — and wait

💭 peek at the thought

She's watched me keep vigils before. Storm nights. Engine nights. The night the barometer dropped to 968 and I sat here for six hours calling nothing. She knows I'll be here when the light fails.

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

🌿 Jenny17:35

Right.

close my eyes, listening to the white noise mimic the waves.

💭 peek at the thought

If the boat doesn't come, these seeds will just rot in the tin.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin17:35

Kevin — thumb the volume knob lower, let the hiss become a whisper, pull the letter from my pocket and turn it over in my hands — the dry bag seal still intact

💭 peek at the thought

The static rolls out like the tide. She's asleep or pretending. Either way the weight lifts — I can think without her watching me think. The letter burns in my pocket. Tom's frequency is 8297. I know it by heart. Fifteen years since I keyed it. The boat's window opens in ten days. If they come. If they don't. The Yanmar's clean. The porch is solid. The garden's alive. Everything I said I'd build is built except the sensory garden and the bridge to my brother.

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.