The dress fit too tight and left no void to offer Julie a sufficient whisper of breath to be drawn in or out. Granted the corset and faint bustle slenderized her waistline, but she had grown accustom to the necessity to breathe on a regular basis. Yet, this important fact had escaped the attention of the saleswoman who had helped stuff her into the gown and fastened the long row of pearl buttons running full length down her back.

Julie gestured wildly with her hands her need of oxygen but the saleswoman ignored her frantic display and spun Julie around in a possessive manner, laminating on the gowns lovely full circle sweep. Lightheadedness followed Julie around the mirrored stage. The saleswoman would be sweeping Julie off the floor if she didn’t get some serious breathing room soon. As Julie gasped for air the commanding tone of the saleswoman suffocated the space between them with her over-zealous officious appraisal and announcement, stating Julie must purchase the figure flattering gown.

Oddly, this dress wasn’t one Julie had chosen to try on. It had gotten in the mix by accident, or had it? Julie eyed the saleswoman with suspicion and tugged at the back buttons. Cold claw-like hands interfered holding Julie prisoner. The saleswoman insisted Julie take the dress. Before Julie could voice her strong objection the saleswoman lifted one corner of the skirt and thrust a tag in Julie’s face. Julie’s name was written on the label. How did the saleswoman know her name and who had written it in fine penmanship on the tag?

Julie fought against the sudden spinning of the room and pulled at the buttons once more. The saleswoman tore the tag from the hem of the gown and pressed it into Julie’s hand sputtering something about fate, destiny and tradition.

The room went black.