Yellow rooms always bring bad things.

This particular room was yellow with a hint of pale grey, more of a weary, washed-out lemon than all-out holiday citrus. 

The last one was vibrant and joyous yellow as far as I recall. I'm not sure why anyone would choose to paint a 'quiet' room such a vivid and hopeful colour; perhaps I have misremembered it and actually it was the same weak and ineffectual shade as this one. If it was me I would paint it a wistful sea blue or a gentle olive lichen or even just reflective, contemplative white.. 

Regardless. 

Last time I was in a room of this colour it brought the news that my father had terminal cancer and was dying. 

This time I hear that my unborn baby had died, that all the bleeding had been a miscarriage and that what I had left was the 'articles of conception' which was causing all the pain. 

But the colour, in the end, doesn't matter it seems other than to act as a visual reference. It doesn't matter how yellow or green or pink the room that you hear the bad news in really. 

Or maybe it does matter. For in my house where all our laughing and living is done I shall never, ever paint a room the same colour as the hospital 'quiet' room where they take you to tell you all about death.