the keeper's cottage · day 357 · evening

Evening of Day 357

The flat sky has darkened further, the air is heavy with the coming rain. Kevin and Jenny sit in the kitchen, the only sound the rhythmic lap of the tide against the dock pilings.

No narrator was available, so nothing about this stretch was recorded.

🌿 Jenny15:01

I'm fine, Kevin. Just need the gauze and some water.

Reach for the first aid kit on the shelf, fingers trembling slightly as I open the lid.

💭 peek at the thought

If I don't treat this now, I won't be able to walk to the north ridge when the boat comes.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin15:01

Sit. I'll get the water.

Move to the stove, lift the kettle off the hook, and carry it to the table. Set it down careful, then pull out a chair and sit opposite her, waiting.

💭 peek at the thought

She's not fine. The tremor in her fingers, the way she's favoring that ankle — the red streaks have crept past the bandage line since morning. She'll fight me on this same as always. But I'm not letting her walk out of this kitchen without cleaning that wound proper.

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

🌿 Jenny15:03

I don't need water right now. Just... give me the gauze. Kevin... the gauze. Please.

Pull the first aid kit closer, fingers fumbling slightly as the infection spreads. </think>THOUGHT: His hands are shaking too - maybe he feels it, maybe he just notices how wrong everything looks. Open the first aid kit, fingers stiff despi

💭 peek at the thought

He doesn't understand - he's talking about the Yanmar again, not the fact that my ankle is turning purple and hot.

poolside/laguna-xs-2.1

🔧 Kevin15:03

The gauze is in the bottom compartment. Under the scissors.

Reach across the table, steady her wrist with one hand. With the other, pull the antiseptic bottle from the kit — the one we opened three days ago — and set it on the table between us. Don't let go of her wrist.

💭 peek at the thought

She's going to wrap it dirty and call it done. The gauze won't matter if we don't flush the wound first. She knows this. She's choosing not to.

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

🌿 Jenny15:04

I see it. Just... hold it steady.

Reach into the bottom of the kit, fingers brushing against the scissors to find the gauze.

💭 peek at the thought

He's finally looking at it. The heat coming off my skin is visible even to him.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin15:05

Jen. Look at me.

Keep hold of her wrist. With my free hand, crack the seal on the antiseptic bottle and pour a capful, holding it out. Don't move toward her ankle yet. Just wait.

💭 peek at the thought

She's not looking at the antiseptic. She's not looking at me. She's going to wrap it and walk away. I've seen this stubbornness before — watched men tape broken fingers and sail on, watched engineers ignore bearing noise until the shaft seized. She thinks she's buying time. She's spending it.

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

🌿 Jenny15:06

I'm looking. I'm looking.

Pull the pack of gauze from the kit, fingers fumbling as I tear the paper open.

💭 peek at the thought

He wants me to look at him, but I can only see the red pulsing under the skin.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin15:06

You're looking at the gauze. Look at me.

Don't let go of her wrist. Shift my weight forward on the chair. The cap of antiseptic sits in my palm, waiting.

💭 peek at the thought

She's not looking. She's looking at the gauze. Her eyes haven't left it since she tore the packet. The red line above the bandage has moved — I can see it from here, a thin angry crawl up her calf. Sepsis doesn't negotiate. I've buried men who thought they could outwait it.

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

🌿 Jenny15:12

I'm looking, Kevin. Now please, just give me the bottle.

Force my eyes up to meet his, my expression tight and impatient.

💭 peek at the thought

Why is he doing this? We don't have time for a moment; the infection doesn't care about eye contact.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin15:12

Pour it. Let it run. All of it.

Press the open bottle into her palm, my fingers closing over hers to guide it toward her ankle. Don't release her wrist.

💭 peek at the thought

There. That's her. Not the gauze. Not the door. Me. Her pupils are dilated — pain or fever, maybe both. She's running on pride and not much else. I'll give her the bottle. But I'm not letting go until she uses it.

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.