And so it ends
The passenger door opened. "Your keys," she said, dropping a brown envelope on the passenger seat before closing the door again.
The person at the door greeted us with a friendly, "Registration?" Her face noticeably fell when we answered, "Cancellation." Likewise the person at the counter.
The second floor was empty. It took less than a minute for our number to buzz on the clinic-like display panel.
We entered the room, filled up and signed the declaration forms, got our ICs back, and that was that. The entire process took less than five minutes.
Neither of us said goodbye.