The Stranger on Our Netflix
4 min read · Anonymous · Premium
The house smelled like stale coffee and neglect. I dropped my suitcase in the hallway and flopped onto the couch, eager to numb my mind after a week at my mother's bedside. The TV obeyed my voice command, but instead of launching straight into our show, it paused on the profile selection screen.
Four profiles glowed under the Netflix logo: mine (a red scarf icon I'd chosen years ago), Mark's (a blue rocket), our daughter Lily's (a pink unicorn)... and a fourth. A new one. A cartoon woman with messy brown hair and oversized glasses, labeled "Sasha."
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