Klaus curled up in a comfortable position on the soft, brown couch, and began to read his book. But he wasn't really reading. He was watching Isadora Quagmire, who was sitting on the recliner on the other side of the room. She also was reading a book, a book on poetry, which was her life long passion. And she was good at it too. Isadora was one of the most talented poets he had ever met. But then again, he was probably bias. As she read she turned her head slightly, her hair fell over her face. She looked really pretty, and mysterious when that happened. Sometimes when he read books where there was a heroine he would always involuntarily imagine that the heroine looked exactly like Isadora. He didn't think about it, his mind just put an Isadora look-a-like up there as the heroine.
The book that he was reading at the moment was called The Hideaway. It was a very exciting mystery novel. He had only been reading it for half an hour or so, and he was already halfway through it. And the book was over 200 pages long. Klaus was a very fast reader. He had learned to read fast during the unfortunate times in his life, because he knew it would save his life. Now reading had gone back to an enjoyable pastime, but Klaus still couldn't make himself slow down. He wanted to know, with an almost inhuman eagerness, what would happen next. Klaus was never in need for books to read either; he went to the library almost daily. But no matter what book he read, Isadora was always the heroine. She was strong and brave; she was kind, and peaceful. Isadora was everything that Klaus could ever want a girl to be.
"Aren't you going to read?" asked Isadora.
"I am." Klaus lied.
"No you're not." Shot Isadora back simply.
"Yes, I am." Tried Klaus again, even though he knew he had not been. If she knew that he was staring at her, did that mean that she had also been staring at him in the few moments that he looked away? He hoped so, but he thought that was too much to wish for.
"Don't try me Klaus Baudelaire." She said all without looking up from her book. But if she had looked up she would have seen the adoring look on his face. He was glad she hadn't looked up. Klaus wasn't very good at hiding his emotions. He loved hearing his name on her lips. Sometimes it felt as if she didn't even notice him at all. He wanted her to think of him as more than a brotherly figure. He wanted to be the one that she thought about at night before she went to sleep. The one whose name was always on her lips. The one who she dreamed about. The one who she couldn't stop talking about.
Klaus did what she said, and looked down at his book and began to read. If he couldn't look at her in the flesh at least he could imagine her. Because for Klaus she would always be his heroine.