Episode Six: "A Window in the Building Across the Street"

MARY:
Do you see the way he's looking at me? Am I imagining things?

RHODA:
I see what you see, Mary.

MARY:
He's staring right into our apartment. It makes me very uncomfortable.

RHODA:
Mary, it's obvious. Go talk to him. Why else would he sit in the window sill and stare at you?

MARY:
I sat by the radiator for three hours last night expecting a mouse. Three hours, Rhoda. All this hurly-burly clank and the repellent radiator crinkling in the corner of the room.

RHODA:
Look at his tail. And those almond devil eyes.

MARY:
Puffs of hot air. Warm goose-bump water hiss, no mouse comes out.

RHODA:
My god, Mary, will the woman who lives in the apartment across the street please hang something on her walls?

MARY:
The atmosphere of false communication makes everyone the policeman of his own encounters.

RHODA:
Or at least paint them? How long do you have to live in one apartment with no art on the walls?

MARY:
In the window sits the cat that Josef K. had noticed in the background earlier, holding on tightly to the lintel and rocking back and forth slightly on the tips of his back paws, like an impatient spectator.

RHODA:
At what point do you say, "The dull white walls are killing me?" It's like she's living in a scene from a Kubrick film.

MARY:
I wish it were spring. Screens in the windows. Eating bumblebees. Then we nuzzle against the panes and talk.

RHODA:
Even when he licks himself, he can't take his eyes off you.

MARY:
That which produces the common good is always terrible.