Queen of Pentacles

She put her arms around him and suddenly there was God everywhere. He let her kiss him, and wondered when he could get away from her and go home.
It was late that night when he left the club. She had assumed that he’d hang around for her, in case he got some; she came back from the bathroom and there were men and women all around, half-naked and sweating, lights and music, but nobody she wanted in her bed.
That was it, then. She went home, met a guy from her halls (she hardly knew him) and they were both drunk and ended up in bed together. She didn’t remember the event, but she woke and the desk was in a different place, the walls and window were wrong and oh, there was this man stumbling through the door, holding a glass of water, in a pair of stripy blue boxer shorts, with a sheepish grin and untidy brown hair.
After the world moved on, after cities fell and railroads rusted, she found the first man again; he was living on mushrooms in a forest, and his teeth were yellow from rot. He didn’t recognize her, or, as it turned out, the right kind of mushrooms.