It was one of those hot nights in Miami that gripped the city like a tightly fitted Durex. There were many tourists dotted around over the entirety of the promenade. All of whom were taking in the twilight of a relaxing American night. The sun had set, all of four hours before, and the night smelled still of the heated busy day. It was quite easy to see that the early rising clubbers were heading off back to their Hotels and Villas, that were clustering the scenery gripping the Beach's and the neatly placed parks. They of course had to be up for the morning surf which drowned in from the North Atlantic and met the warm waters of the Gulf. .
The air had an aroma of strongly overcooked American fast food that strangely enough people enjoyed eating after the odd distilled larger which the frontal bars and restaurants offered gracefully and willingly. There were plenty of over excited English holiday makers that were absorbing themselves in the menus of "fine" Italian cuisines, which clustered the curbs of the many streets that were oddly situated on the corners of many roads.
People were grouped on the edges of signs and palm trees by the small clubs and barest houses that hung on the pavement like a baby to a lollypop. The smell still hung around every gap and hole that was based around the front of the Miami resort.
Over the noise of tourists and locals, you could faintly hear the distant sirens of ambulance and police vehicles. They sounded so far away from the coast yet they were so near in a sense of direction. The occasional person took a quick look around them, trying to establish where the noises were coming from and where they were heading, whether something major had happened or just a prank that someone had found amusing to pull off. Nobody knew what had happened but a strange smell hung in the warm air, a smell that was not a normality all to often, yet it was a distinguished smell that not one person could fail to recognise, it was the smell of a fire.