Daily Flash Fiction Challenge

"I thought you said he was a carpenter."

"What?"

"Look at the drawer on that cabinet."

"That isn't true."

I don't know how to tell him Bill has taken to the drink, has lost the spark that made him the parish's best organist.

Here in the workshop lull, between jobs, I can step back and see what has to come next.

"Right Ted," I said. "I'll see it's fixed."

The workshop took the order for Bill's coffin two weeks later. He fell dead in the street after an unholy bender.

I hadn't held back from telling him what I thought, preferring tough love to letting standards slide.

Work gets around in a small place like this; grudges don't fade easy.

Now, I sit alone in the workshop whose name I cared about more than my best friend, hitting back shots to make it not true.

word count: 145