New Yorkers Love Thy Neighbor #2 (Literally this time)

So I live on 119st between Frederick Douglass Ave and St. Nicholas Ave. If you couldn't make it out by the street names or numbers, that is- Central Harlem, USA. It's an interesting neighborhood and despite being harassed periodically for the white color of my skin with comments like, "Damn crackers comin' up in here," and having a soda can thrown at me once, I can't really complain much. One problem that was nagging me however, and it had nothing to do with the neighborhood, was the close proximity of my building to the other one immediately out my living room window. As in, from my living room window I can see directly into someone's bedroom about 40-ish feet away and from the window above our kitchen sink I can jump onto the neighbor's balcony. This layout became increasingly interesting only recently.
You see, my "work area" (as if I do much of my schoolwork) is positioned with my computer at a table looking straight out and therefore straight into my neighbor's bedroom. I had never seen anyone in there before until about two weeks ago when a nice looking young woman probably in her early-mid twenties came strolling in there, as if straight out of the shower almost totally indisposed. I am not a freak and am disinterested in voyeurism, so I glanced away (really, I did). In the few seconds with my eyes adrift she must have walked over, still unclothed to her shades to pull them down because when I looked up again, there she was! We made eye contact. It was extremely awkward. A few days later I caught her in a towel and then for days after that in varying degrees of exposure. Finally yesterday I made eye contact again with the woman, wearing clothes this time, and we both glanced away immediately. She bolted from the room and returned with another woman pointing at my window. I hid under the table trying to peer out at the situation unfolding and decided that this nameless, awkward exchange needed to stop. So I tore apart a box, popped open a marker and posted a sign on my window reading, "Hi, my name is Aaron. I apologize that our buildings are awkwardly close." This evening, I saw no movement in the room and figured that she either hadn't seen my gesture or had seen it and thought, "This Aaron guy is a creep." Alas, I went out for a few minutes to pick up clothes at the laundromat and returned to a response. "Hi, I'm Linnea." More, there was a huge colored-in smiley face on the post.
I'm intrigued. I thought things like this only happen in annoying romantic comedies starring Meg Ryan, but perhaps I was mistaken. I know, I know, "Linnea" sounds a little to goyishe for me... but honestly, I'm not looking for romance from the girl next door. I only find it fascinating that we, I or she, might invest in a short-lived, short-spoken (or written) conversation across such a seemingly small space.
Everyone loves or hates New York because there is so much happening and so many people. I love/hate New York because while people cram into small spaces, push, bump and accidentally spy on eachother, they sometimes only "connect" by way of unlikelihoods like my Sharpie's print on the side of a cardboard box.
Where will my conversation with my new friend, Linnea lead? Will we ever meet? She lives right around the block! We've probably crossed paths already and not even known it.