Another Cosmic Spite

There’s the one where your tire goes flat on the highway, and as you crouch in the cold drizzle, fingers numb and clothes soaking through, the rain thickens persistently enough to ruin your day. 

You finish tightening the last lug nut with muddy hands, shut the trunk, and climb back into the driver’s seat. 

And that’s the exact moment the rain stops, it halts, the clouds part, and the sun emerges with theatrical clarity, like nature’s own curtain call.

The only thing that is missing is a cloud formation of a huge middle finger.

What is that?

Not comic spite?