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At first they thought it was fog, but seconds later the acrid smell of smoke assaulted their noses and Rosemary and Al Dominick knew something was burning.
As Rosemary looked for the source, stepping first into the alley behind their Beacon Street brownstone, she said sirens wailed out front as fire trucks and police cruisers arrived to battle the blaze.
Burning was a brownstone at 298 Beacon, a home almost directly across the street.
“That smell. You know it’s a fire. It’s an unmistakable smell,” she said standing in front of the dinning room bay window, which looks out on to the street.
This is a neighborhood of century-old brownstones, whose bricks connect for blocks at a time.