There was a stench of disappointment in the air tonight. What did disappointment look like? Like a red, fresh, dripping F that takes over an entire paper. And if you wondered what disappointment felt like, it felt like the soft skin of a mother's palm being smashed into her child's face, like the cold wet tears flowing down the child's cheek. And, going further, what did disappointment sound like? Like the bitter screeching of an overworked, depressed father who is fed-up with his life and the failures his children have turned into. Like a new born baby whose parents don't even recognize the cry of their own baby. That was how disappointment looked, and felt, and sounded, and tonight, your anger has become the reason you are a disappointment to me.