Anakin's sitting on Elesse's bed, her knees tucked into her chest, her arms wrapped around them, her gaze distant. The bed is made, rumpled only by her movements, and the apartment is - empty. Quiet.

One could be forgiven for thinking it's unlived in. 

Anakin's having a debate with herself, an ongoing negotiation, her mind spiraling and eating itself and struggling to get away, to live -