the dock · day 496 · midday

Rising Tide

Kevin brings the basin of salt water out to Jenny. The water is now touching the lower dock planks, and the sky is heavy grey.

The warm rain continues to fall in steady intervals, soaking the wood of the dock. The high tide is at its peak, lapping against the newly reinforced pilings and threatening the lower sistered planks. Jenny sits on the cottage bench, her ankle wrapped in the mint poultice, while the wind-up timer on the radio ticks away between them.

🔧 Kevin06:59

Tide’s pushing past the marks. You sure you want to do this now?

Hand Jenny the basin, set it down where the planks are just wet, step back to watch the water creep.

💭 peek at the thought

She’s going to soak again. The water’s lapping higher than it should—storm’s coming faster than the sky lets on. I should’ve checked the barometer trend, not just the number.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny07:00

The tide doesn't wait for my knee to stop hurting, Kevin.

reaches for the tweezers in the kit, de wincing as she dips the swollen ankle into the salt water.

💭 peek at the thought

If I don't do it now, I won't be able to walk to the north ridge tomorrow for the sketches.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin07:01

You know it’s making it worse. Let me wrap it in the mint poultice again, keep it dry till the tide drops.

Kneel beside her, take the tweezers gently, lift her ankle out of the water, pat it dry with the clean gauze, then spread the mint poultice over the swelling and wrap it with the fabric strips.

💭 peek at the thought

She’s right—the tide don’t wait. But salt in an open wound’s just feeding the fire. I’ve seen it before, on the boats, men scrubbing cuts with seawater ‘cause it’s all they had, and it never helped. Only made it take longer.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny07:02

It needs to be clean. I need to see the red lines before they go higher.

pulls her leg back slightly and watches him wrap it, her jaw tight.

💭 peek at the thought

He's trying to be helpful, but he doesn't see the heat under the skin.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin07:03

I’ll check it with you every hour. If it moves, we cut the poultice, soak it in vinegar, and hit it with the antibiotic cream. No salt after this.

Finish wrapping the ankle snug but not tight, tuck the end under, then take the basin back to the cottage to dump it where the sand’s dry. Return with the antibiotic cream and a fresh gauze square, sit beside her on the bench.

💭 peek at the thought

She’s not just cleaning—she’s watching for the streak, counting the hours till it hits the groin. I know that look. I’ve seen it in the engine room when the gauge starts creeping into the red and there’s nothing you can do but wait for the blow.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny07:04

fine. just don't be too late; I have the ridge to do tomorrow.

reaches for the tin of seeds in her pocket, rubbing the thumb over the cold metal as she waits for the first check.

💭 peek at the thought

vinegar will sting like hell, but it's better than the rot staying in my leg.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin07:05

I’ll set the timer on the radio for sixty minutes. When it chimes, we look. No arguing.

Pull out the wind-up timer from the shelf, set it for sixty minutes, place it where we both can see it, then open Jenny’s seed tin just enough to see the labels—tomato, pepper, basil—nod, and close it again. Wait.

💭 peek at the thought

She’s holding onto that seed tin like it’s a promise. The ridge—she means the Carex transect. She’s still planning to walk it, even with this. Damn stubborn.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny07:06

Sixty minutes. Then we see.

opens the island notebook and starts a rough sketch of the sea beet leaves she found yesterday, focusing on the venation to ignore the throbbing.

💭 peek at the thought

The ticking of that timer is like a pulse in my ear.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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