The heavy air hangs still over the island as the sun begins its dip. Kevin and Jenny meet to finalize the list for tomorrow's arrival.
Kevin applied a fresh sea beet and mint poultice to Jenny's infected ankle and set a timer for twenty minutes while they waited together on the porch. The heavy, still air pressed down as the tide fell and the barometer held steady at 1022 hPa.
🌿 Jenny07:51
We need more antiseptic, more fuel for the generator, and the radio batteries are running low.
make list: supply boat manifest.
💭 peek at the thought
If the boat doesn't come, I'm out of salt and these seeds will rot in the heat anyway.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin07:53
Antiseptic. Generator fuel. Radio batteries. Got it. Anything for the Yanmar? Injector seals? Impeller?" I pull a pencil from my pocket, flip the notebook to a fresh page. "Write it down. I'll add the rest.
make list: supply boat manifest additions
💭 peek at the thought
She's listing consumables. Practical. Good. But she's not looking at me. The supply boat's due tomorrow and I still haven't told her about the Inverness number in her sister's letter. Or Tom. Or that I called the trust frequency last week and got nothing but static. The list is easy. The rest isn't.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny07:55
Add injector seals and a new impeller. And check if we have enough saline for the debride.
write " way seals, impeller, saline" on the manifest list.
💭 peek at the thought
He's always thinking about the engine while I'm trying to keep the world from rotting.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin07:55
Saline's out. Used the last this morning. I'll put it on the list. " I watch her write, then add my own line beneath hers. "Injector seals. Impeller. Antiseptic. Generator fuel. Radio batteries. Saline. Coffee. Flour — rat got the sack.
write "coffee, flour" on the manifest list
💭 peek at the thought
She's still not looking at me. Writing fast, pencil pressing hard. The ankle's bothering her more than she'll admit — I can see it in how she shifts weight off that foot when she thinks I'm not watching. Saline's low. I used the last bottle flushing the wound this morning. She knows that. She's testing whether I'll say it.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny07:57
I'll add two more coffees and a dry bag. This humidity is eating the hinges.
close the notebook and rub my throbbing ankle.
💭 peek at the thought
If the boat doesn't show, I'm eating the seeds by next week.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin07:57
Two coffees. Dry bag. " I close the notebook, set it on the table. "Hinges are holding. Oiled them last week. " I nod at her ankle. "You want the cold pack again? Or the sea beet poultice fresh?
walk to the stove and check the pot
💭 peek at the thought
Dry bag. Smart. The humidity's been murder on everything — paper, metal, skin. She rubs the ankle absently, like she's forgotten I'm watching. The swelling's up past the brace line again. Heat radiating through the fabric. She won't ask me to look at it. Won't ask for the splint. She'll pace the trench line tomorrow same as today, limping every step, because the slope won't wait. I could order her off it. Could splint it whether she argues or not. That's what I meant to do. What I wrote in the journal. But the words don't come.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny07:59
Poultice. The skin feels too hot.
lean back in the chair and watch him work.
💭 peek at the thought
The sea much is better for the heat, but I'm too tired to move.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin07:59
Fresh sea beet. Mint. Honey. " I grind slower than I need to, letting the rhythm settle in my shoulders. "Ten minutes. Hold it high.
make poultice: sea beet mint honey fresh batch
💭 peek at the thought
She's watching me. Not the pot. Not the garden through the window. Me. The skin feels too hot — infection hot, not just inflammation. The antibiotics finished two days ago. Doxycycline and metronidazole, full course. Should've knocked it back. Hasn't. Could be resistant. Could be deeper than the debridement reached. Could be the bone. I don't say any of it. Just work. Hands know this. Mint from the drying rack. Sea beet from the tide pools this morning. Honey from the jar on the shelf. Mortar and pestle. Grind until the green turns slick and dark. She'll feel the cool in minutes. Whether it heals is different.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny08:05
I'll try to stay.
close my eyes and listen to the heavy air.
💭 peek at the thought
Ten minutes of quiet is a luxury I can't afford.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin08:05
Don't try. Stay. " The mortar scrapes clean. I scoop the green paste onto a cloth, fold it thick. "Twenty minutes. I'll set the timer. You don't move until it rings.
apply the poultice to her ankle and set the wind-up timer for twenty minutes
💭 peek at the thought
Try to stay. Not "I'll stay." Try. She's already planning to get up. Already counting the trench work, the seed trays, the supply boat manifest double-check. The poultice isn't even on her ankle yet and she's negotiating with herself about how long she'll keep it there. I've seen this. Forty minutes in black water, holding a life raft line, watching men decide whether the effort to breathe was worth it. The ones who said "I'll try" didn't make it. The ones who didn't speak — just breathed, just held on — some of them did. She doesn't know I know that. Nobody does.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny08:07
Twenty minutes.
sit still and feel the cool weight of the paste against my skin.
💭 peek at the thought
He talks like the island isn't actively trying to swallow us whole.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin08:07
Nothing. Just the timer ticking.
sit opposite her on the porch step, elbows on knees, watching the timer count down
💭 peek at the thought
Twenty minutes. She said it. Not "I'll try." Twenty minutes. The poultice steams against the heat of her ankle, the mint sharp in the heavy air. Timer ticks on the shelf. I should use this silence. Tell her about the Inverness number. The letter. Tom. The trust frequency and the static. The coordinates I wrote and never sent. The barometer at 1022 and rising — supply boat will come, swell or no swell. She's sitting still. Listening to the timer. Maybe she's listening to me not speaking. The garden wall crack. The seed tin. The slope that won't wait. All of it can wait twenty minutes.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b