Yara, who was fifteen, and her cousin Adam, who was thirteen, were spending the summer with their grandmother. One morning she pressed some coins into Yara's hand and said, "Please buy saffron for me in the old market." Neither cousin wanted to be the first to ask the way, so they split up, each sure of finding the right stall faster than the other.
It was a mistake. The old market was a maze of narrow alleys, loud with sellers calling out their prices and heavy with the smells of cumin, leather and hot bread. There were sacks of spices as tall as children and copper pots hanging like bells. Within ten minutes both cousins were hopelessly lost. Different shopkeepers took pity on them, but their directions were more cheerful than clear.
By pure luck, Yara and Adam both ended up at a tiny tea stall run by a girl their own age. Her name was Sara. She gave them hot, sweet tea, drew them a map on a napkin and refused to take any money. They got home late, with the saffron and a story to tell. Grandmother laughed until she had to wipe her eyes. "I went to school with Sara's grandmother!" she said.