A young writer who follows strangers for material meets a thief who takes him under his wing.

Cobb: You take it away... to show them what they had.
Cobb: Everyone has a box.
Bill: When I started to follow people, specific people, when I selected a person to follow, that's when the trouble started.
Cobb: Just because you broke into people's homes doesn't mean you need to look like a fucking burglar.
Bill: And when it stopped being random, that's when it started to go wrong.
Bill: So what's a girl like you...
The Blonde: Doing in a place like this?
Bill: ...doing with a bald old cunt like that?
[first lines]
Bill: The following is my explanation. Well, more of an account of what happened. I'd been on my own for a while and getting kind of lonely... and bored... nothing to do all day. And that's when I started shadowing.
The Policeman: Shadowing?
Bill: Shadowing - Following. I started to follow people
The Policeman: Who?
Bill: Anyone at first. Um,
Bill: you know, that was the whole point - somebody at random, someone who didn't know who I was.
The Policeman: And then?
Bill: And then nothing.
Cobb: You're developing a taste for it - the violating, the voyeurism... it's definitely you.
Bill: That's it, unless you have any questions.
[last lines]
The Policeman: Is this your handwriting?
Bill: Yes
Cobb: [finding a house key under its doormat] Bing-fucking-go.
The Blonde: They rifled through my underwear.
Bill: Jesus Christ! Do you think they believed you?
Cobb: Of course they didn't fucking believe me!
Bill: Were you, uh, "working" for him at the time?
The Blonde: That... is none of your business.
[gets up to leave]
The Blonde: I think you'd better find somebody else to start telling you little stories.
Bill: Oh come on, I was just joking!

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