Day 715

Rain patters on the roof tarp as Kevin tends the generator in the shed below, the engine's steady thrum vibrating through the floorboards. Jenny sits propped against the loft's headboard, her swollen ankle elevated on a folded blanket, a tin mug of lukewarm limpet broth cooling in her hands. The barometer on the kitchen wall reads 991 and still falling, its needle lazy in the damp air.

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