"I Am Not Fluffy," by Liza Cody, in Ellery Queen's Mystery Magazine, December 2013.
There's a lot going on in this one. It takes a while to piece the story together and understand the way the narrator is telling it. So, who is she (besides not being Fluffy, I mean)?
I worked as a hostess and greeter at a bar-restaurant six nights a week for five years while Harvey qualified to be a tax lawyer. And for two nights a week Harvey was going round to Alicia's flat to bounce her bones. "you were never there," he complained. "What was I supposed to do all by myself every night?"
What indeed. Insult to injury: Alicia was an old friend of hers. And now that Harvey is making a bundle he wants a no-fault divorce and a big white wedding to his new love.
Our narrator goes for textbook passive-aggressive tactics: refusing to sign the divorce papers. She can't afford a lawyer on her hostess salary so she changes to a less respectable but more remunerative profession.
And she begins writing her protests against the world around her in chalk on the sidewalk, signing them Fluffy.
Is this a story about a nervous breakdown? A split personality? Or is our heroine learning to not be Fluffy anymore, to be a person who can take care of herself?
Damn good work.