Or his teeth. He felt like an angry, impotent superhero stuck in his regular body, straining to transform into his furious alter ego and failing over and over again. He’d been pacing the length of his apartment for the better part of an hour, waiting for Olivia to turn up. She said she’d come over at five, and it was closer to six. She was never late. But today she was. And, as far as he knew, she’d never lied to him. Until now. He took a deep breath and forced himself to let it out, feeling half an ounce of tension leave his body before returning tenfold. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been this angry. This worked up. Or maybe he could. Maybe all he had to do was think back to last Friday, when he’d gone to the Internet café on his lunch break to e-mail her for her birthday. He hadn’t heard from her since her first day in Bangkok, which should have been his first clue. Still, he’d sent her a fucking e-card and said he hoped she was enjoying her trip.
