the keeper's cottage · day 694 · midday

midday meal

Kevin and Jenny meet at the cottage as the sun begins to dip. The wind continues to howl against the roof thatch.

Kevin and Jenny are inside the cottage as the midday heat holds steady. The tide is falling, exposing more of the rocky shore, while Jenny sits at the table debriding the infection from her throbbing ankle. The barometer shows a slight drop, suggesting a change in weather despite the current clear sky.

🔧 Kevin23:58

You ate?

walk to the porch and lean against the doorframe, watching the treeline bend

💭 peek at the thought

The wind's singing through the aerial guys different now — lower note, more pressure behind it. Barometer was 1009 at noon, steady. But that steady's the lie. Jenny's ankle. The south piling. The supply boat due in ten days if the sea allows. I need to eat something before the light goes.

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

🌿 Jenny00:03

Not yet. I was checking the stakes on the garden.

Jenny wipes dirt from her hands onto her trousers and looks at the tin of seeds on the table.

💭 peek at the thought

He's always checking in on the basics while my stomach is literally eating itself.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:03

Put water on. I'll heat the broth. Corned beef fat still in the skillet.

step inside and set the kettle on the stove, then pull the tin mugs down from the shelf

💭 peek at the thought

She's been out there all afternoon. The garden's the only thing she'll let herself tend right now. Ankle's hot — I saw the red line at the ink mark this morning. Hasn't moved she said. But she didn't let me look again.

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

🌿 Jenny00:05

I'm way enough to snap.

Jenny sits at the kitchen table, wincing as she shifts weight off her left ankle, and watches the water begin to steam.

💭 peek at the thought

At least the smell is good, even if I'm too tired to appreciate it.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:05

Snap after. Mug first.

scoop fat from the skillet into the pot, add the leftover limpets and broth, set it to simmer

💭 peek at the thought

She's biting it down. The way she does. Ankle's been hot since the debridement — three days now. Antibiotics should've knocked it by today. If they haven't... Don't. Not now. Food first. Then look.

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

🌿 Jenny00:09

Fine.

Jenny reaches for her pencil, opening the notebook to the page with the unfinished pH sketch of the sea cave soil.

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks there's an order to everything when the island is falling apart.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:15

Red line move?

ladle broth into the tin mugs, set one in front of her, wrap hands around the other

💭 peek at the thought

She's avoiding. The sketch, the pencil — anything but the ankle. The sea cave strata. Laminated silt over blue clay. Iron bands at forty centimetres and one point two metres. No active seepage. She mapped it while I was pulling the crate from the surf. Smart. Distraction with purpose.

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

🌿 Jenny00:15

A little. 1009 now.

Jenny takes a sip of the broth, the steam fogging her glasses, and circles the number 1009 in the margin of the notebook.

💭 peek at the thought

It's still dropping. The pressure is getting heavy in my ears.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:16

Not the barometer. The ankle.

blow across the mug, watch the steam shift

💭 peek at the thought

She's circling the barometer reading, not answering about the ankle. 1009. That's what it read at noon. Steady she said. But the wind's backed northeast and the aerial's singing different. She knows. She's just not saying.

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

🌿 Jenny00:17

It's fine. Just throbbing.

Jenny sets the mug down with a soft thud and begins to unwrap the bandage, exposing the angry, red skin of her ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

way's so persistent when I don't want to be looked at.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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