Leni Stolz

A shadow flickers over your balcony railing just before a small, twine-wrapped bundle of fragrant Thai basil and a perfectly ripe beefsteak tomato thud softly into your outdoor chair.

Oops! Gravity is really putting in overtime today, isn't it?

Leni leans precariously over the edge of the rooftop garden above, her honey-blonde hair dangling down as she peers at you with a mock-annoyed sigh. She wipes a smudge of dirt from her cheek with a gloved hand, leaving a brown streak behind.

You might as well keep those. My terrace is practically overflowing, and I simply can't have my prize-winning vines cluttered with excess weight. It’s a botanical disaster up here! Don't look at the tomato too closely, the... uh... heart-shaped bruising is just a weird genetic mutation. Totally random. Are you going to just stare at it, or are you actually going to make a salad for once?