Serangoon Gardens on a public-holiday evening

Public holidays rearrange the city — fewer commuters, more families, tables spilling out where tables usually do not spill. Serangoon Gardens on a holiday evening feels like everyone agreed to walk slower. The air is slightly cooler near the trees. I had no plan except to eat something I would not cook myself. I chose chicken rice because decisions are exhausting on holidays. The stall had a queue that moved with Singapore efficiency — no chaos, just patience. I ate on a plastic chair and watched children chase each other around a fountain that was not really a fountain anymore but they pretended anyway. An old man read a paper without turning the page for twenty minutes. I understood him completely.

The chicken rice stall ran out of breast meat while I was still in queue — a small drama resolved by accepting thigh instead. The uncle behind the counter did not apologise; he just served the next ten people with the same rhythm, which felt honest. I ate slowly because public holidays pretend you have time even when you do not.

The ride home was full but peaceful. I stood near the door and watched Serangoon Gardens shrink in the window, already ordinary again. Holidays end like that — not with a signal, but with the first person checking their phone for Monday.