Prelude - part 1: Return of the mushroom

The rain fell. It fell from the skies to the ground endlessly. Rain like he had never seen before... endless, endless rain.

He stood underneath the shop's awning, nervously scanning the rain drenched environment he found himself in once more. He knew these streets so well - when he was younger, tis was his playground, his school, his home. But that was then... and this was now. The cocoon-like feeling of safety he had derived from this place was gone forever. This place had changed and so had he.

He pulled the cigarette from his mouth and steadily exhaled the smoke. It laid heavily on his lungs, as if to accentuate its toxicity. Even after he had more than emptied his lungs, they still felt poisoned. Damn, he thought to himself, why had he ever started up with these things? He pondered this thought for a second, but then remembered exactly why. It would take him a long time to forget these reasons properly and, in truth, he was grateful at this time that he had been able to forget if only for a brief second. He pulled the cigarette from his mouth once more, stared at it for a second as if he had no real understanding or recognition of it and flicked it into the gutter.

Pi the mushroom (for it is he) looked out into the rain once more. He saw the tacky hotel, cheap in both price and morals, remembered how little money he had (and how choosy he could not choose to be), pulled his raincoat a little tighter still, crossed and the road and entered the hotel.