The midday sun begins to dip as you and Jenny sit on the porch. The air is still still as you open the envelope that arrived between you.
Kevin and Jenny sat on the porch to review the supply boat manifest, due in six days. They discussed the state of the dock and the progress of the garden while the humidity remained high. The heat stayed heavy as they planned for the coming week.
🌿 Jenny15:59
It's just the boat manifest, Kevin.
slide the paper across the weathered wood toward him.
💭 peek at the thought
He's looking at the paper like it's a ghost. It's just a schedule.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin15:59
Right. Boat manifest.
pick up the paper, unfold it slowly, scan the columns with the ease of long practice
💭 peek at the thought
Not the letter from the trust. Not Tom's. Just the manifest. My hands know this paper — salt stains, the skipper's cramped handwriting, the way diesel soaks into the fibres before it dries. I've read a hundred of these. Could read it with my eyes closed. But Jenny's watching me read it, and that changes the weight of it.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny16:01
They're coming in six days, if the weather holds long enough.
watch his eyes on the paper, looking for any sign of frustration.
💭 peek at the thought
He's checking the dates again. He knows we're running low on everything.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin16:01
Six days at high tide. Two-hour window.
fold the manifest along its original creases, set it flat on the porch boards, weigh it down with the tin mug
💭 peek at the thought
Six days. That's what the radio said too. Weather's the variable — always is. Barometer's steady at 976, but that low pressure's been hanging like a held breath. She's looking for frustration. Won't find it in the manifest. Frustration's in what's not on the paper: the garden wall's north end still listing, the shade cloth anchors the crab shredded, the Yanmar's vibration above half-throttle I haven't traced to ground yet. The manifest's just ink. The work's what matters.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny16:03
Enough to get the fuel and the meds if we move.
rub the back of your ankle, feeling the throbbing heat through the skin.
💭 peek at the thought
Two hours is never enough when the engine is fickle and the tackle is swelling.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin16:03
Meds we got. Antibiotics finished their course. Fuel's the one — two cans, one cracked. Generator's half tank. Yanmar's clean.
shift weight on the porch boards, boot heels clicking, reach for the coffee mug she left warm
💭 peek at the thought
Her thumb on my ankle — wait. My ankle's fine. Hers is the one that near took her foot off. She's projecting. Or I'm reading it wrong through the fog of epoxy fumes and tide-watch. Six days. Fuel, meds, the list in my head longer than the manifest: stainless 150mm through-bolts (out), epoxy tub (empty), greenheart cores (three left, eight-foot, straight grain), copper sheet for the spillway extension, cement that isn't hardened in the bag. The dinghy's vibration. The north ridge fracture. The letter from the trust still folded in the drawer. Tom's letter in the dry bag. She's pressing her thumb into bone and I'm letting her.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny16:05
We'll need to patch that leak before the boat gets here.
look out at the half-weeded garden, the dirt baking in the heat.
💭 peek at the thought
The cracked can is a waste, we can't afford to lose a single drop.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin16:05
Which leak.
set the mug down, turn on the porch step to face the garden, arms loose at my sides
💭 peek at the thought
Leak. She means the tank overflow — epoxy and oak shims held through the storm but the seep at the northeast corner's persistent. Or she means the garden wall's north end where the intercept trench weeps. Or the cottage foundation where the bitumen membrane bridged the crack but the clay's alive down there, breathing. Six days. The list writes itself in the back of my skull while I sip cooling coffee. She's looking at the garden. Baking dirt. Tomato stakes driven, twine tight. Basil chewed at the base — crab or rat. Pepper seedlings struggling. The shade cloth over the tomato rows, anchors shredded at two corners. She's right. The leak she sees isn't the one I'm thinking. We're not talking about the same thing. We rarely are, lately.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b