Johan strolled through the parking lot, his eyes scanning the array of luxurious cars. As he mentally cataloged each brand, he noticed an unusual sight – a black-skinned old man standing amidst the vehicles, blood-stained hands drawing Johan's attention.
A sense of tension hung in the air as Johan approached cautiously. "What are you doing here?" he asked, eyeing the old man with suspicion.
The old man met Johan's gaze, a sly smile playing on his lips. "Just a little mishap with ketchup," he replied, raising his bloodied hands as if to emphasize the point.
Johan's instincts were on high alert; the situation felt off. "Ketchup? That looks more like blood," he retorted, narrowing his eyes.
The old man chuckled, his demeanor retaining an eerie calmness. "You've got a sharp eye. It's just a prank. Harmless fun," he explained, but his words did little to ease Johan's growing unease.
