No pass.
Two hours later, after filling out forms and paying a fee, I got a temporary pass. Paper. Flimsy. It felt like a reprimand. lost jurong island pass
I had lost my Jurong Island pass.
The morning ferry cut across the strait, low tide revealing mudflats like old scars. At the checkpoint, my hand went to my lanyard—and found nothing. No pass
That evening, I found the original pass—wedged between my car seat and the console. I held it for a long time, turning it over in my fingers. A piece of laminated plastic. And yet, without it, Jurong Island might as well have been on the other side of the world. No pass. Two hours later