A short passage of prose in response to the charge that writers are only marketing and not engaging with their readers

I saw a thread recently on a kindle forum about writers not interacting with their readers enough. I forget which one it was—I'll have to remember to bookmark them in future. But my writing alter ego couldn't help but conjure up a short scene to illustrate the indie author's problem.

Ann-Marie packed her bags this morning and stomped out of the house, dragging the children behind her, for the final time she said. I ran outside in my pyjamas and stood in front of the car, pleading with her to s...