Maybe I've seen too many movies, you know

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Every year on Christmas Day I get very lonely. An incredible feeling of solitude. On this day, everything has stood still, even the trees have stopped rustling, but I'm still moving, I want to move, but I have nothing to move to, and nowhere to go. The scars beneath my skin suddenly surface and I get scared. Scared of being alone.

How could I have known that murder could sometimes smell like honeysuckle?

Oh, thank you.