Kaphar sighed deeply. The conflict lasted for ten years.
“Does Mechilah still hate me?” he pondered. “But I just can’t. It is his fault anyways.”
Kaphar and Mechilah were once best of friends. They went through preschool and middle school together. Yet right before high school they got into a heated argument. After that, they never saw each other again.
While working, Kaphar suddenly received a message from an unknown figure. It wrote, “Yljvujpsl.”
“What in the world?” he said out loud. “I’m going to search this up.”
It was a Caesar cipher. The word was reconcile. He knew at first glance what this person meant. Whoever it was, he wanted Kephar to reconcile with Mechilah.
“Sigh. I said it is his fault!”
Days passed. The same message sent every day. Kaphar ignored it completely. He tried to delete or block the person, but to no avail.
A year into these messages, they suddenly changed: “10 khfz.” The next day it writes, “9 khfz.” Again, Kaphar’s curiousity got to him, and he searched it up. “Khfz” decodes into “days.”
“What does this mean now?” he thought.
On the day the message “1 khfz” popped up, Kaphar received a call. The caller from the other side stated, “2 hours left. Reconcile now. Hospital next block. Room 280.”
“HOSPITAL??? Hold on a minute. What is happening?”
The caller hung up. Kaphar tried texting him, but there was no response.
Then it hit him. Mechilah was dying. This unknown caller was telling Kaphar all along to reconcile with Mechilah before the death.
Kaphar rushed down from his apartment—it was 10pm. He rocketed through the streets. He dashed into the front door. He skipped the hospital reception. He climbed the stairs. Yet, when he gets to Room 180, he stops. He knew all along. It wasn’t all Mechilah’s fault. It’s been taking too long. He doesn’t know whether Mechilah still hates him. He doesn’t know whether Mechilah even knows him. Pushing these thoughts aside, he took a deep breath and entered the room.
“Kaphar? Come on in.”
Kaphar was shocked. Even after so long, Mechilah still instantly recognized him.
“I’m sorry.”
Mechilah smiled faintly. “I’m sorry too.”
They set aside their differences. For once, they were friends again.
They chatted about life. They talked about their families. They talked about their colleges. They talked about their jobs. And most importantly, they talked about the unintended betrayal.
Nostalgia crept over. Yet, it would soon be gone.
Mechilah sighed and said, “They said I won’t live till tomorrow because of cancer. However, I’m glad we reconciled.”
“Yeah, me too.”
The clock ticked zero. Mechilah closed his eyes. He never awoke again.
A portal opened. Kaphar said, “I know, Kaphar, you wanted this because it haunted you for all of this time, right?”
The older Kaphar smiled.
“I’ve fulfilled my final wish.”
And with that, he faded into the dust.
