the dock · day 427 · morning

Midday Heat Soak

Kevin and Jenny meet as the sun reaches its peak. The air remains perfectly still over the island.

The air is heavy and humid, a sharp contrast to the expected dry-season heat. The tide is receding rapidly, exposing the slick rocks and the heavy wooden crate wedged near the dock line. Kevin and Jenny stand at the dock, the tension of the morning still lingering in the space between them.

🌿 Jenny10:35

It's fine, Kevin. Just need to finish these seeds.

Adjusts the bandage on her ankle to hide the swelling and turns back to the seed tin.

💭 peek at the thought

He's looking at my leg again. I can feel the heat radiating off the skin.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin10:36

Noon check. Both ankles. That was the plan.

walk up to the cottage porch

💭 peek at the thought

She's hiding it. The bandage adjustment wasn't comfort — it was concealment. Red tracking up the shin, heat radiating through canvas. Metronidazole's been in her system since noon yesterday. Should be responding by now. If it's not, we're past oral antibiotics.

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

🌿 Jenny10:37

The plan changed when the humidity spiked. I'm almost done.

Tightens her grip on the charcoal pencil and pulls her leg further under the table.

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks a plan matters when the infection is moving faster than the supply boat.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin10:38

Jenny.

set the medical kit on the table beside the seed tin

💭 peek at the thought

Humidity doesn't change infection progression. She's buying time — hers or mine, not sure which. The pencil grip's white-knuckled. Leg tucked under the table like I won't notice if she doesn't put weight on it. I've seen this stubbornness before. It's the same look she had when the tomato stakes blew over in the first storm — refused help, reset them one-handed in the dark.

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

🌿 Jenny10:39

I'm busy. The sea way needs these sketches for the log.

Stops sketching and stares at the antiseptic bottle, her jaw tight.

💭 peek at the thought

If he opens that kit, I'll have to make him leave the room.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin10:40

The log waits. Your leg doesn't.

pull out the chair opposite her and sit down, opening the medical kit

💭 peek at the thought

She's not looking at the antiseptic. She's looking at the empty space beside it where the gauze should be. Used the last of it this morning on my calf. She knows. That's why the jaw's tight — not the pain, the arithmetic. Two infected ankles, one kit, and the supply boat seven days out if it comes at all.

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

🌿 Jenny10:41

I can do it myself. It's just a bit.

Drops the pencil and lets out a sharp, frustrated breath, finally moving her leg out from under the table.

💭 peek at the thought

He's going to be stubborn, and I'm too tired to fight.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin10:42

Show me.

unfold clean gauze and lay it ready, then reach for her ankle

💭 peek at the thought

"Just a bit." The swelling's past the ankle now, red fingers climbing the calf. Skin shiny with heat. She's favoring it hard — the way she set it down tells me the joint's stiffening. Metronidazole should've knocked the anaerobic edge off by hour twenty-four. If it's tracking upward, we're looking at cellulitis moving toward the lymphatics. Or the wound's deeper than we thought. Puncture wounds lie.

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.