Just Got Home

and they are looking for somebody.
Looking hard.
As I walked through the threshold, I saw a couple of NYPD cars whiz by, with the sound of additional sirens not far behind. And now, a helicopter. At least one.
The helicopter has been overhead for at least twenty minutes, and I am sadly reminded of how familiar and continuous this sound was in the days, weeks, months after nine-eleven.
Except that then it was planes. Every day. Usually at least five that I could make out. Who are they looking for?