Kristoff read the rest of the poem.
"This sounds like that novel you told me to read, the one with that monster in it," he said.
"Frankenstein?"
"That was the scientist, right?"
"Oh, right, of course. I always forget that's not the monster's name."
"You're the one who told me to read the book," Kristoff teased.
"To be fair, I did read it a long time ago."
A gust of wind splattered more rain against the windows.
"Where is that book?" Anna asked.
Kristoff stood up, reached behind another book on a nearby shelf, and pulled out the correct book.