She would say that this was their personal time, and she didn’t need fame. I often stopped by the enclosure myself, watching them with admiration. I was struck by how Atlas changed at the sight of Margarita: he was usually indifferent to the crowd. But as soon as she appeared, he would literally come to life, straighten up, and walk to the glass.
Sometimes, when the zoo was closing, I would let Margarita stay a little longer. In these moments of silence, their bond was particularly noticeable and touching. Atlas would place a huge paw on the glass, and Margarita would place her palm on the other side. They would sit like that, motionless, as if time had stopped for them.
Several months passed, and I noticed that Margarita was starting to fail significantly. Her face became gaunt, her movements slow, and she had difficulty walking. I asked if she needed help, but she would smile and say it was just old age. Nevertheless, she continued to come every day, even in the rain.
I saw her sitting under an umbrella in her chair, while Atlas lay under the shelter, never taking his eyes off her. One morning, during my rounds, I noticed the lion was behaving strangely and restlessly. He sat by the glass, staring at the empty chair, and let out a low, mournful roar. Margarita didn’t come that day, nor the next.
By the third day, I realized something was wrong and decided to go to her home at the address from her file. When I drove up to her old house in a private neighborhood, a neighbor watering his flowers told me the terrible news. Margarita had passed away three days ago, peacefully, in her sleep. Her granddaughter, who came to check why her grandmother wasn’t answering her calls, found her.
The doctors confirmed that her heart had stopped from old age, without pain. I stood there, listening to these words, and felt a lump forming in my throat. I had known this woman for only a short time, but I had developed immense respect for her. I returned to the zoo with a heavy heart and went straight to the enclosure…
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