Heather's Mail Sorter was an unassuming contraption, nestled in the corner of her small office, where the scent of freshly brewed tea lingered in the air. It had seen better days, with a few scratches on its once-polished wooden surface and a tiny, persistent rattle that caused a slight annoyance. Still, it was more than just an appliance; it was a trusty aide in Heather's daily routine of managing correspondence for her bustling consultancy.

Every morning, like clockwork, she would fire it up, and the old machine whirred to life, gears shifting with a rhythmic clunk. Letters, bills, and postcards cascaded through the slots, all sorted into neat piles according to their intended recipients. Heather would often pause to admire the efficiency of the process, her impeccable organisation skills shining through as she handled each piece of mail with care.

While technology had progressed, and sleek digital alternatives filled the market, Heather preferred the nostalgic charm of her mail sorter. It reminded her of simpler times, fostering a connection to the handwritten notes and thoughtful messages that passed through her hands. Each envelope held a story, a sentiment, or a request, and she relished the opportunity to curate the tales of her clients before they unfolded.