The Barista

Stone Soup Magazine
February 2019

By Thomas Jones, Art by Mia Fang

  The barista in the LAX airport got to his shop at 5:00 a.m. and opened at 6:00. He did this so he could catch the early tide of people that usually came in...

The ferocious waves slapped against the shoreline, spitting mist and bits of white foam into the crisp air. The gray clouds conquering the sky like a vast...

The sky’s vibrant gray was an embodiment of metallic hues colliding. Smothering the arid landscape like a hazy hand. The shrill, choppy thrilling of the...

“Cousins!” I hear a little voice call. Two small, sticky hands wrap themselves around my legs. I see two shining blue eyes beaming up at me. “Pauline!” I...

The sun raised its head over a cold California coast. This sun was a special sun. It was the first sun of the year. There was to be a special gathering at the...

As I look around me, surveying my surroundings, everything seems different. The sunlight that is spilling onto the ocean sparkles like a thousand gems, and I’m...

It was a stormy day in October 2016. One of the worst hurricanes since Katrina was raging New York city, and for me, the Upper East Side. Flood barriers were...

The airport was almost empty, with only a few solitary people wandering about the terminal. The silence echoed throughout the building, surrounding us in a...

This Saturday morning I slept in. I knew I didn’t have to get up for anything except a tennis lesson at one o’clock. When I finally rolled out of bed at eleven,...

The Crow woke me up. He is perched at the top of the old redwood, his raucous cries circling and drifting, jerking me from my dreams. Half of me wants to shake...