Then, the next day, he asked if she had any tripe—because sure, every household had that lump of horribleness in their fridge. Perplexed by the request, she’d asked him if it was something he wanted to have in the house, but he’d wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I was researching last night. The average woman loses a cup of blood during menstruation.” She’d frowned. “What does that have to do with tripe?” “It helps replace lost blood,” he told her cheerfully. “I thought it might be wise for you to eat some.”
