Tribble was missing.
Rhys had searched the flat from top to bottom, knowing she had to be there somewhere because she wasn’t allowed out. Affectionate though she was, she wasn’t the smartest cat ever and it just seemed sensible to keep her away from traffic and other hazards. But there was no sign of her and he was becoming frantic.
He’d checked the oven, washing machine, laundry basket, underneath all the furniture… then an idea hit him. Pulling open a drawer, he looked inside and there she was, curled among his socks, fast asleep.
He smiled fondly; she was safe.