"It's not stupid," Alana says gently. It was hope. It's normal for people to cling to it, a kinder form of denial, and she's seen it in cases across the board. For an eight-year-old, it would be almost more surprising if she'd simply assumed something was terribly wrong under those circumstances.

She reaches over to her side, lifting the box of tissues from her table, handing it across the space between them for Abby.