Good Premise

A house is almost a fossil of a person. … You learn things. Not because you’re snooping. Mostly because people leave evidence everywhere. Books. Photographs. The kind of coffee they drink. The condition of the refrigerator. Which is frankly more revealing than most biographies. … Another dispatch from Scott Evers. Read for you by Geezer III. I’m house-sitting for my friend Greg. Nice place. Slightly minimal. Got angles where angles shouldn’t be. Walked into the bathroom yesterday and spent ten seconds trying to determine whether I’d entered a hallway by mistake. Marvelous. … Funny thing. You spend enough time in another person’s house and you start constructing stories. Not about what they tell you. About what they don’t. … For instance. I just turned down the bed. What am I looking at? There’s granules in it. Little things. Not many. Enough. Enough to wonder whether the sheets are clean. Which naturally leads to wondering whose sheets you’re sleeping in. … No. Don’t answer that. … I went looking for replacements. That’s where things started getting strange. Found things. Found this closet. Hmmm. Private. I won’t tell you everything. But there’s a poster tucked in here. A photograph. Sweet Jesus. It’s Greg. … Okay. I’m putting it back. Exactly where I found it. … Certain discoveries deserve privacy. Also panic. That’s a bit unnerving. I’m calling Fred.

— me again. — — i’m telling you there’s something peculiar about this place. — — alright. — maybe peculiar isn’t the word. — — hold on. What’s this. … Well now. That’s interesting. … Looks like a beetle. Big thing. About the size of a walnut. … Folded wings. Perfectly ordinary until I pick it up. … Wait a minute.

It's intricate.

...

Too intricate.

...

That's unsettling.

...

Now, that’s interesting. If you could see it, there’s little black circles underneath. Six of them. Maybe eight. Hard to tell. … Shit. Makes a man think through what he’s been doing the last few hours. … Nothing private, I’m relieved to say. … And look at that.

— yes. — — well tell me that doesn’t look deliberate. — — what do you mean you’ve seen one before. — — that’s not helping. — — where. — — well that’s unsettling, Fred.. — — no. — that’s not like you at all. — — I count on you for restraint. — Hold on. … Okay. It moved. … No. I mean it moved. … There it goes again. … Fred. … Fred, it’s walking. — — — hell. — that’s exactly the sort of thing a person says right before they become unreliable. — god — — it’s under the dresser now. — hold on. — — there. — got it. — — no. — wait. — Well that’s odd. I’m looking at it. — — Fred. — — i don’t think this thing is what it pretends to be. — — what do you think it is? — — you know Greg’s a pastor. — — yes. A real pastor. Church and everything. — — well that’s an unsettling thing to say. — — everybody has a secret life. — — what do you mean everybody has a secret life. — — private life I understand. — — social life too. — — but secret?

Lord. It just flew out of my hand. … Will you look at that. … Where’d it go. … Marvelous. … Maybe that's all a house really is.

A collection of clues.

...

The trouble is imagination never knows when to stop. — — no. — I don’t think Greg’s spying on me. — — then why’d I imagine it. — — that’s a good question. — — why are people hidden from one another, Fred. — — shame? — — fear? — No. I don’t think that’s enough. … Maybe we’re all larger than the stories people tell about us. Well. That’s annoyingly beautiful. … That was last night. … I’m sitting on the same bed now. Sun’s up. Coffee’s cold. Greg’s still a pastor. As far as I know. … What's this? A note beside the bed. That’s… interesting. Written in my own handwriting. Apparently sometime during the night. It says:

GIID OEMISE

Underneath:

I KEEP FINDING THINGS THAT MAKE LITTLE SENSE.

...

Mystery. … G-I-I-D then O-E-M-I-S-E. GIID OEMISE.

- I don’t know. - - yes, Fred. - one of those fever dreams again. - forgot my pill. - - yeah, happens once in a while. - - dreams get ambitious. … Greg’s a good man. Buys everybody’s tomatoes. Wouldn’t spy on anybody. …

Maybe that's the secret life. Not something we're hiding. Something we're unable to share.

…

I don’t know. … I just typed the note into my phone. GIID OEMISE. … Autocorrect changed it to: GOOD PREMISE. … Marvelous. Apparently I write episode ideas in my sleep.