by Kristen McQuinn Timothy Dykes The bathtub’s rim came up all the way to my shoulder. I shivered at its cold touch, the ceramic a bright, blinding white, freezing cold in the direct path of the air conditioner vent. It was a stark contrast to the soothing warmth of the water that came up over my legs and lapped at my chubby belly. The water sploshed and plunked happily as I played with my bath toys. I had a stereotypical yellow rubber duck, and a white one I named Donald. He