The squawking stopped when the door opened. The biggest crow stared with its mouth open, then hopped in. It saw a grain of rice on the floor; it ate it. Two males walked closer, then flapped their wings to get inside.
Seven loud crows are now in the car. There are no more grains of rice. The door closes. The car’s voice sounds like a smiling British actress, "Good morning! Where shall we go today?” Beaks become fast yellow scissors, cutting the air into shrill shreds of anger, hunger and fear. The car drives off.
At the border, the scanners, scales and sensors work perfectly: the car is determined to be empty. The car heads towards Kallang.
Fortississimo: Caw! Caw! Caw!
The crows' fury, the driver's perfection: Singapore.