Disappointment is the barbed side of a coin, flipped with a random hand, revealed with a tricksters grin. Disappointment is a pinch with partially bitten nails, a slice of glass in a soapy sink, the sneaky edge of an envelope on the tongue. Disappointment is the vine around an ankle, the corner of a coffee table waiting patiently for a shinbone, a missed bottom step. Disappointment is a bathtub of salt, a window crack that invites winter in, an indefinitely drawn curtain.