Lunch was a long drawn out affair. Kibbutzniks came to wish him luck and tell him they were sorry to see him leave. "Time for something new," he'd told them. He didn't eat much; his stomach was all jittery and had ruined his appetite, but the coffees and smokes relaxed him a little.

He'd met his ex. at lunch and she'd asked what time he would be leaving as she wanted to come to see him off. This was one parting he really didn't want to make. He wasn't sure what he'd do or say and was actually nervous about it. He chided himself. He didn't want to let her get to him. He wished he could've gone without seeing her at all, but he was the first person she'd spoken to when she came in to eat lunch. It wouldn't be fair, he thought, to go without saying goodbye. Even though they'd been through some serious ups and downs they were still friends. He wanted to leave on a good note as he'd no idea when, or if, they'd see each other again or in what circumstances. He knew one thing for certain though; he wouldn't be the fucked-up mess he'd been the last time he'd left.

At 2.30 PM, half an hour before he was due to set off, his ex. came to his room. His mind started doing mental gymnastics. He'd figured it was going to be a short goodbye, and now here she was wanting to be in his company for his final thirty minutes.
There were so many things he wanted to say to her but couldn't bring himself to mouth them. The message she'd written in his birthday card to him had duplicated what he wanted to tell her. He ran it through his head:

"I really wanted to say all this to you but don't feel capable so I'm writing that I'm sorry about a lot of things.
If I could, I'd change all the things that didn't go well.
I'd take back all the nasty things I said and all the bad deeds I did.
I hope that if we meet again it will be as friends not enemies."

What she'd written had really touched him.