A boy and his dog pass languid hours at the beach in a picture book that strikingly conveys the pulsing heat of a triple-digit day. Grayscale, mixed-media illustrations appear almost hazy against solid red pages, evoking the oppressive weight of scorching heat. The sparse text—averaging two words per two-page spread—lends the reading an appropriately sluggish pace. “No way.” The boy stands with hand to forehead, staring up at the sky. “Too hot.” He reclines on a beach chair, arms at his sides. “Game cancelled.” He sits on his basketball, head in hand, his French bulldog sprawled next to him. Other people lie on towels, shield their faces, apply sunscreen. “100 degrees, / in the shade. / Try not to burn.” Then, a sign of hope arrives. “Wind picks up. / Clouds roll in.” Could it be? The boy and his dog look up toward the sky as a single raindrop, cool blue against the red, falls. Then: “Downpour.” The red pages become streaked with blue lines until the only remaining red is the setting sun. As night falls, the red gives way as the pages become completely awash in blue relief, and the boy and his dog return home and fall into bed.