a window in the bank above his head reveals his home amidst the streets

There but for the grace of the Architect go I.

Right?

He'd heard enough of his owners say it, year over year.

Could always be worse - except when it couldn't, and there were curses for that in their own right - if you had someone else to sneer at, to save your hide from, to measure yourself against.

Haze is dying, but I'm not. That's the thing about being a Blade, I guess. So I'm really lucky.

(Or won't she come to life again?)

Lucky to have the rest of my life ahead of me.

Anything could happen.

Anything at all.