“Oh, you motherfuckers,” she snarls. “There are remarkably few of your kind who actually do that,” says a voice that makes Bronca stiffen with recognition. Stall Woman. That was her in the stairwell, too, Bronca realizes now, though her voice was less clear there. “I expected much more mother-fucking, when I first came to this city,” Stall Woman continues. She isn’t distraught anymore; now she sounds detached, bored even. “Given how often New Yorkers use the term, I honestly thought there would be mothers getting fucked in every alley. A veritable plague of mother-fucking, unless of course mothers like being fucked, which I presume they do. Then I suppose I should call it a bounty of mother-fucking. But there really isn’t that much at all. Strange.”
―
N.K. Jemisin,
The City We Became