Paddy Garvey places an American flag at a construction area at the World Trade Center site hours after President Barack Obama announced that Osama bin Laden had been killed in New York, on May 2, 2011.
It's early Monday morning inside Engine Company 37 in Manhattan. Tired-looking firefighters coming off the night shift wander around in shorts and t-shirts, clutching mugs of coffee, their eyes drifting to the television mounted in a corner.
The night was a busy one, 10 alarms in all. In the spare moments, the firefighters monitored the news, slowly learning how the man responsible for the deaths of hundreds of their colleagues was pursued and killed.
By dawn, sparks of joy had transmuted into a quiet satisfaction. "Something needed to be done and we've waited a long time," said Richard Thomann, a tall 45-year old with blue eyes bleary from lack of sleep. "Hopefully this brings some closure to the families, especially the guys in our job."
Almost 10 years after the devastating terrorist attacks on the World Trade Center, New Yorkers went to sleep or awoke to the news that Osama bin Laden, the mastermind of the violence that had transformed their city, was finally dead.
Overnight, hundreds took to the streets, converging on Ground Zero and Times Square. They sang the national anthem, chanted "USA!" and listened to bagpipes play Amazing Grace.
In a city where almost everyone can cite a personal connection to the attacks - a relative who worked in the buildings, a friend who saw the planes, a memory of fleeing smoke and ash - Mr. bin Laden's death fulfilled a long-held hope, one New Yorkers had almost but never quite abandoned.
Arriving on a cold, grey morning at the site where the World Trade Center towers once stood, commuters expressed a full gamut of emotions: disbelief, exultation, sorrow. Some hadn't yet heard the news as they hurried to work, but paused when they saw crowds of people snapping pictures, police barricades, and television trucks.
"Excuse me, what's going on?" asked Herminia Bernardo, 62, climbing the steps of St. Peter's church for a better view. A passerby holding two cups of coffee, who had just learned himself, replied with typical New York bluntness. "They killed Osama bin Laden," he said.
"Thank god!" exclaimed Ms. Bernardo. "I'm so happy."
Ms. Bernardo suppressed a shiver as she recalled that September morning when, running late for work at the World Trade Center, her train stopped in the tunnel between New Jersey and Manhattan. It reversed course and from the opposite side of the river, Ms. Bernardo watched the twin towers burn.
At the informal memorials that have sprung up around where the towers once stood, there were fresh flowers and flickering candles. A few people stood quietly, wiping away tears. Affixed to one fence were pink flowers with a short note. "Thank you U.S. Military!" it read, signed simply "Holly & Henry."
Christine Yip, a 27-year old who works in the fashion industry, paused in the shadow of the partially finished 104-storey Freedom Tower, and snapped a picture with her phone. "It means something, especially today," she said.
Ms. Yip's cousin narrowly missed being in the buildings at the time of the attacks, while she witnessed the bloody aftermath at a nearby hospital where she was working as a young administrative assistant.
"Is it evil for me to ask whether we could just capture him and torture him?" she said with a small laugh. "A shot in the head - that's a quick death."
Like others, Ms. Yip said Mr. bin Laden's death didn't make her feel any safer.
Across the city, there were increased security precautions starting Sunday night as officials braced for a potential reaction to the killing.
Downtown, preparations of a different sort were under way. "Drinks will definitely be poured today," said Brian Schwentner, an inspector at the World Trade Center construction site. He described the mood inside the site Monday as "almost festive."
Standing next to him was Dustyn Broening, a colleague who moved to New York two years ago and had served in the U.S. military during the early months of the Iraq war.
To mark the occasion, Mr. Broening's boss was telling people to wrap up what they were doing then take the day off. "You can compare this to the end of World War Two," he said. "We're still fighting the war on terror, but we've taken out the main symbol."