dot's nickname, deadeye dot, wasn't a nickname she really wanted, never really liked it. it was thrust upon her, given to her, labelled her in the heat of the moment by the bank manager after dot sent the stranger packing with 3 precise shots straight from the hip. in her heart dot wished that her nickname was 3-shot-dot. 3 was a special number for dot, she didn't know why, was just a feeling, something about time: past present future, something about life: birth living death, something about family: mother, father, child. after the shooting incident dot became obsessed with the number 3. no one knew this, it was in her own world, her own mind. some would say dot had obsessive compulsive disorder. but for dot, it was simple, clear, necessary. dot always had 3 flowers on the table for dinner, always said "thank-you" 3 times a day, always said "i love you" 3 times a day. dot lived her life with the number 3 as her guide, she felt grounded, spriritual, perfect.