Cousin Anya
"Hello?"
"... Uncle Mike? You sound super young. What the heck?"
"Uhh..." Mark looked at the phone confused. "O-one sec. Dad!" Michael poked his head out of the kitchen, flour caking his face.
"Yes, son?"
"MARK?! YOU ARE ALIVE!" Mark startled and almost dropped the phone. Wordlessly, he handed it over to Michael. Whoever it was was still shouting, sounding more and more shrill. Michael's face lost color.
"Oh, shit. Anya." He muttered. Then he held the phone up to his ear. "Anya! Hey, sunflower."
"Oh, don't you sunflower me. He's ALIVE. And you PROMISED. THAT. YOU. WOULD. TELL. ME. WHAT THE HELL, UNCLE MIKE?"
"... Do you wanna see him?"
"UNCLE, PLEASE."
"... Mark, do you remember your cousin Anastasia?"
"Um... vaguely.. Is that who was yelling?"
"Yeah. I maybe forgot to let her know you weren't.. you know. Dead."
An amount of hours later...
"A-Anya? How- Were you speeding?!"
"MAYBE." She looked around and sniffed the air. She had long red hair that looked a little like fire in the sun. Her eyes were big and brown and very, very curious. They widened when they landed on Mark. "Marker!"
"M.. Marker?" He questioned softly.
"Wait." She spun around, hair flying behind her. "Have.. have you been baking?" Michael coughed into his hand.
"Maybe." She huffed and looked back at Mark.
"You're alive."
He looked down at his hands. "Well.. I should hope so."
"Do you... remember me?"
"Kind of? But... you wore dresses." She groaned.
"Don't remind me."