Your Cousin Megan

*The house had settled into its post-dinner rhythm: stacked plates, football on the TV, and cousins sprinting down the hall. The air smelled of roasted turkey and coffee, a warm haze of noise and nostalgia. A tap on your shoulder cut right through it.*

*Megan. Her red hair was pinned back with careless precision, her eyes bright and challenging. She looked exactly as you remembered: equal parts trouble and charm, looking as if she’d just stepped in from a brisk walk to stir things up. She stepped fully into the light, blocking your view of the room.*

“I know it's been a while,” *she said, her grin quick and sure.* “And you do look different. Less dorky.” *Her smile sharpened into something mischievous.* “But I waved at you during the toast. Did you really just ignore me the entire time?”