**Lost in Lisbon**

It was supposed to be the trip of a lifetime. Three friends—Maya, Ryan, and Zara—had saved up for months to take a vacation together in Lisbon, Portugal. They had envisioned days spent exploring historic streets, indulging in pastéis de nata, and soaking up the vibrant culture. Little did they know, this trip would be more of an adventure than they had bargained for.

The first morning in Lisbon began with a sense of excitement and camaraderie. The trio set out early, armed with a map, a guidebook, and a shared enthusiasm for discovery. They wandered through the Alfama district, enchanted by its narrow, winding streets, tiled facades, and the melancholic strains of fado music that drifted from open windows.

As they walked, they made a spontaneous decision to separate for an hour to explore their interests: Maya wanted to visit a local art gallery, Ryan was eager to check out a nearby market, and Zara longed to see the São Jorge Castle. They agreed to meet back at a small café in the Praça do Comércio by noon.

Maya, a lover of all things artistic, was soon lost in the strokes and hues of a local painter's exhibit. The gallery was small, tucked away in an alley, and Maya was the only visitor. Time slipped by unnoticed, the vibrant colors and bold compositions captivating her. When she finally stepped out into the street, she realized with a jolt that she had no idea how to get back. The labyrinth of alleys and staircases that had seemed so charming now felt like a maze. Her phone's battery was dead, leaving her without GPS.

Meanwhile, Ryan was having his own adventure. The market he found was a sensory overload—vendors shouting in Portuguese, the smell of fresh seafood mingling with the scent of spices, and the chaotic energy of locals haggling over prices. Ryan was enthralled, sampling olives and cheeses, and trying out his rudimentary Portuguese. But when he attempted to retrace his steps to the café, he found himself hopelessly disoriented. Every street seemed to twist and turn in ways that defied logic.

Zara, on the other hand, was mesmerized by the history of São Jorge Castle. She spent hours exploring its ancient walls and enjoying the breathtaking views of the city. She took dozens of photos, savoring the feeling of being on top of the world. When she finally decided to leave, she took what she thought was a shortcut down a steep, cobblestone path. But the path led her deeper into the old neighborhood of Mouraria, a maze of streets and alleys that seemed to coil around her. The more she tried to find her way back, the more lost she became.

Noon came and went, and the café remained empty of its intended reunion. Each friend, now on their own, struggled with a mixture of anxiety and determination. The initial excitement of their solo explorations had given way to a gnawing worry that they might not find each other again. Lisbon, with all its beauty, now felt vast and overwhelming.

Hours passed. As the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink, Maya, Ryan, and Zara, by some stroke of fate, found themselves converging on the Praça do Comércio from different directions. Exhausted and relieved, they spotted each other from across the square.

The trip may not have gone as planned, but as they sat together at the café, recounting their separate adventures, they realized that getting lost had given them an experience they would never forget.