"Tea? Coffee?" My mother rasped through her bunny mask to George. George shook his head emphatically in a zig zag that was neither a yes nor a no. I brought George home to meet the family with the warning that they were more than a little, off. George laughed it off, but now his eyes were wide and he seemed to have lost his ability to speak. I grew up in a family that honored our ancestors, our totem animal ancestors. And our form of worship was by ingesting those totems while wearing masks of the same. It really isn't that weird, when you think about it, but it seems to unnerve most people for some reason. George excused himself to the back door. As we sat down to eat I saw him scrambling over the fence, one shoe lost in the muddy backyard. Flash Fiction Friday is a series of short, original fiction prompted by a photograph. Freya stole this brilliant idea from the even more brilliant writer, Erin Morgenstern.