The willowy thief, long-legged and tactile, moved her hands across the aluminum shelves of the misty greenhouse. Her greedy nose moved towards a fully blossomed flower, which she didn’t know the name of. She took a deep breath in and out against its stems. She continued her routine down the aisles. On her shoulder, staining the t-shirt she wore, was an olive tree frog beside the nape of her neck. His large eyes were closed, looking as if he was napping as lazily as possible. The floors were completely covered with a thick soot. Underneath the dirt was a rubber mat which caused her already light steps to bounce slightly, and she welcomed the lack of gravity to the greenhouse. The thief had lived…