I have followed the guidelines you guys gave me and I hope that this version will be more to your liking
I hope you'll still give me more pointers though 
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A token of love
It was an early morning on December 24th, the weather was the coldest it had been all winter. Yet, it seemed as though most citizens in town were out, roaming through every store on every street in search of presents for their loved ones. Snow had been falling steadily for more than a week, and despite the store clerks’ attempts to clear some of it away, it was still piling up in front of the doors, making it hard for customers to get into the various shops to complete their Christmas shopping.
A young man, just a mere clerk himself, was wandering up the main street. While struggling against the wind that seemed to pierce right through his jacked like a horde of needles, he would sometimes stop and look inside a window, although nothing seemed to keep his attention long enough for him to go inside. His name was Thomas Clem and he was a simple-natured, good and hardworking man who had many loyal friends and a warm-hearted woman to love. Sadly enough, the thing he didn’t have at all was money.
Thomas was born into a very poor family. Being the third of five boys, destiny had given him few cards to play when finding a path in life. His employer – a grumpy, old merchant who counted every penny twice and wouldn’t let go of any money if he could help it – would scarcely give the young man more than one pound twenty every month. And although this fact usually was of no great importance, today of all days; this one fact was going to be crucial for him. He was trying to find a present for the woman he loved: Emily.
She was a flower-girl. A very ordinary looking, poor and although brighter than some, quite naive girl. Nevertheless, to him she was the most beautiful and kind creature there was. Every time he thought of her, he always pictured her hair first. Shining in the light is seemed like a waterfall. Then he would think about her cute smile and the way she looked whenever she had a secret she couldn't’t seem to keep. He seemed to love all of her little habits even the way she always came five minutes late to her appointments, and the way her mood changed, ever so slightly, with the wind. He had fallen for her the very minute he saw her, and from that day he had tried to give her the best of what he could give. Therefore he knew that her gift had to be perfect.
He tightened the grip around the few coins in his pocket. What should he buy for her? What could he buy for her? It had to be a special gift that she would love at once, a gift that would paint a smile on her pearly white face and make her green eyes shine like emeralds. He pictured her face once again, and went stubbornly on, determined to find something worth giving. For every window he passed, he tried to imagine what she would say when given the present. Thomas knew she would be happy for anything, but he really wanted to find a thing she would truly cherish.
Should he give her something sweet, a caramelised apple, perhaps? Would the sugary fruit melt on her lips and make her heart warmer, would the pleasure last long enough to enjoy, or would it be gone too soon? How quickly would the taste go away, leaving the tongue wanting and the tummy not even briefly satisfied? No, it was not enough. The present should give pleasure for more than a day. Perfume perhaps? But without money to buy one that smells of newly picked roses, corrupting her natural scent with something cheap would be a felony. What about a book? Something for education and for pleasure, a romance novel would possibly be a good choice. But she was not the keenest reader.
Consumed by these thoughts he wandered on, not noticing where he was going or whom he was passing by. All the while thinking, he pulled out his gold chain. A golden cross had once hanged from it, although his mother had sold it years ago to buy her children winter clothing. The chain was all she had left him, the only piece of family heritage there was. Alas he wore it round his neck each day and never took it off. Sometimes, especially when he was nervous about a decision, he would take it out from underneath his shirt and twirl his fingers in it. Somehow the gesture made him think more clearly.
Before long, he had walked away from the head street and into one of the many side streets of the town. He found himself standing in front of a little antique shop, “Barclen’s”, looking inside the green shuttered window not really expecting to find anything of interest. Just as he was about to look away something caught his eye.
A comb was lying neatly on an old, white dresser. The dresser itself was massive and looked more like a wooden storage box than anything else, but the comb was special. It was silver with red, shining stones making out a picture of a phoenix. The light from the window fell upon the red stones and made the otherwise dull looking mustard-yellow walls light up like a Christmas tree. As soon as he saw it he knew that this was the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes upon. Excited about his discovery, he hurried inside.
Ignoring the chocking smell of dust, the bad lighting and the squeaking floor, he swift by the mahogany table set and the gold-framed paining, rushing towards the dresser and picking up the precious item with trembling hands. He examined it closely, letting his fingers stroke over the brush head and follow every line of the phoenix’s picture. The more he looked at it, the more he understood that he wanted to buy it.
A few times he tried to walk away from it, roaming the store for other possible gift items. He examined the Chinese tea set and the pearl necklace. He picked up a horse-shaped clock and ducked away from the violins hanging from the ceiling. Even when he tried to check the far end corner for the sideboard filled with crystal figurines, his eyes still went looking for the comb. Every time he had looked at a pair of other things, he came back to the comb, picking it up and looking at it longer and longer each time. While he was looking at it, the shopkeeper had come down to greet a new customer. He had closely observed Thomas for a good ten minutes before he spoke.
“Good day, young man,” said the shopkeeper, “I see you have found something to your liking?”
Unsuspecting that anyone was watching him, Thomas jumped and turned around to face the grinning shop keeper. Standing in front of the counter was a slightly round man in his best years of life. He was hardly taller than five feet four inches, but his clothes made him seem like a very important man who knew a bit about business.
“Eh, yes,” replied Thomas, “this comb is very beautiful. I have never seen one like it before. I was thinking of maybe buying it as a present.“
“Very well”, the shopkeeper smiled while twirling his grey moustache,”that will be £10 pounds.”
Thomas flinched, £10 pounds, it was outrageous! He had been working for six months to save up for this day, and still, all he had in his pocket now was £8 pounds 75 pence.
Six months of lifting boxes and delivering meat from the butcher to the store. Six months of putting up with mean, old Quigley, and all for nothing. The only gift he wanted to get Emily was out of limits. Thomas sank down in an old, straw chair and almost started weeping. He knew that the comb would cost him a fortune, but he never thought that it would cost him all he had. More than he had.
When he received the last payment, he counted it time and time again, joyful for what he had earned. He had even imagined buying some bread for the dinner table, and maybe warm socks as well (as the winter was getting colder and the old ones were soon to perish), now he realised what a fool he had been. It was not £8, 75, but only £8, 75, not nearly enough to buy anything.
As Thomas was thinking all this, the shopkeeper, noticing the sudden change in the young man’s appearance, asked if everything was alright.
“Do you want me to wrap it for you sir?” he asked trying to take the comb from Thomas’ hands.
“No, yes…I mean, just wait a moment” Thomas stuttered clutching the item firmer while pulling it to his chest.
He thought about what to do for a moment. He had to have the comb, that he was sure about, but how could he convince the store keeper to let him have it for so much less?
“Do you not want it then, sir?” the shopkeeper asked persistently, now sounding a bit irritated.
“I do, I do. I really do! But I don’t have enough to buy it.” Thomas replied sincerely.
The shop door opened and a lady came inside. Brushing off the snow from her brown shawl she noticed the young man sitting hopelessly in a chair and her husband standing over him. Walking up to them she asked
“What’s wrong, Harold? Why is this man so miserable?”
Her husband gave her an annoyed look, but decided to answer. “He wants the duchess comb, but hasn’t got enough money to buy it,” he replied hoping that it would satisfy the woman’s curiosity.
While tucking away some of the grey hairs that has blown out of place, she looked at Thomas, puzzled.
“Why do you need a comb like that? Isn’t it a bit too fancy for your kind?” she said, undoubtedly referring to his clothes.
“I want to buy it as a Christmas gift to my beloved; Emily.” Thomas said ignoring the woman’s vicious comment.
“Is that so?! Well, this Emily sure has to be special to use a comb like that” the woman continued teasing.
Thomas looked up and straight into the woman’s eyes;
“My Emily deserves nothing less than this comb. She is beautiful. Her hair is long, and dark as the evening sky. I’m not even sure that this comb is worthy of her, but I know she would appreciate it.”
As he spoke those words, his eyes lit up like a torch and the woman could see them burning with love and determinism. She realised that whoever this girl was, she was special to him and he would do anything for her.
The lady smiled and addressed her husband once more;
“Harold, let him have it. Do you not see what pain you are inflicting on his poor soul? Give him a bit of happiness! It’s Christmas, after all.”
The shop keeper looked at his wife, stunned with rage. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her towards the stairs all the while angrily hissing “Upstairs, now!” He then turned around facing Thomas’ hopeful eyes and firmly said;
“No, it’s still £2, 25 short.” After a few seconds he calmed down, and added; “I would be glad to help you, but I run a business after all.”
And with those words the shopkeeper took the comb from Thomas’ hands, put it back down on the dresser, turned around and walked towards the counter. The young man slowly rose from his chair and made his way to the door. When he had almost opened it, he turned around again and asked; “What if I pay it off?”
Thomas walked out of the antique shop in pure bliss, looking down at the brown-paper wrapped comb now and again, just to check if it was still there. It all seemed like a dream; his proposal to pay it off in monthly instalments, the shopkeeper’s razor sharp look as he spotted the golden chain around Thomas’ neck, and at last the agreement – for the shop keeper to hold on to the chain until the debt had been paid off in full. As he was strolling past the beauty salon, still clinging on to the precious gift, an old homeless woman standing outside suddenly approached him, blocking his way.
“Oh, young man,” she stuttered with a hoarse voice “please have some mercy on my soul. Give money to this poor, old woman, so that this winter wouldn’t be my last.”
“I don’t have any change on me, old lady.”
Thomas said with a guilty but sharp voice.
“Not even one penny to spare?” the woman asked, moving in closer.
The rags around her waved like branches on an old tree, she reminded Thomas of a witch in the bedtime story his mother used to read to him. “Not even one.” replied he, trying to walk past her as he stepped to the left. The woman followed.
“What do you have there, boy? Is it bread for the Christmas table, or maybe some candles?” she asked pointing at the bag.
Her face was filthy and her breath was vile, he flinched and took a step back.
“No” he replied, “it is neither food nor candles. It should be of no interest to you,” he tried once more to walk around her, but she was persistent in her ways and would not let him go.
“Is it a present then?” she asked, moving in even closer now.
Thomas was amazed at her bluntness and thought to himself how much she resembled that witch. The whole aura surrounding her reeked of suspicion and her seemingly yellow eyes sparkled artfully, as though she knew a secret.
“A present for a loved one, maybe?” she said piercing his eyes with hers. “I’m right, aren’t I? Is it for your girlfriend then?!” her voiced had drastically changed and was now just as piercing as her eyes.
“Y-yes,” Thomas found that he had suddenly become the stuttering one.
“What could you possibly buy her with the money you have?” she asked, with a smirk on her face.
The young man swallowed,
“I saved up money for this day, so that I could give her the perfect gift.” he replied, trying to work out in his mind why he was still talking to her.
“And here it is? A gift that is supposed to be so special. Yet it seems small, and wrapped in ugly, brown paper.” the woman continued, now with a mocking tone.
“It is a comb. Her hair is very beautiful” he said still not quite understanding how she made him tell her all this.
It was definitely time to go now, he thought to himself, but before he could move another inch the woman spoke again:
“You spent all of your money to buy her a comb? You fool!” she said yelling out the latter, laughing thereafter hard and loudly.
Thomas was stunned and angry, how dared she laugh at his token of love? He had had enough of this crazy woman.
“What do you know, old hag?!” he shouted, “you have never loved like I do, and you will therefore never know why I have spent my money on this gift. It does not matter to me what it costs, as long as she is pleased with it.”
With those words he pushed her aside and marched angrily away. The woman kept on laughing as he walked on down the street, and he could hear the echo of her words all the way to his home, but he convinced himself that she was only crazy and that he did not care about anything else than the contents of the brown package in his hands.
The evening came and Thomas made his way to Emily’s house. He was holding the comb; it was now neatly wrapped in red paper and had a big green bow. She opened the door welcoming him with a big embrace. A scarf was covering her hair. Thomas took off his jacket and his shoes. “I have a present for you,” he said smiling. He went over to the big wooden table in the living room and put it down. He looked up, only just noticing the scarf, and asked why she was covering such beauty.
“I cut it off and sold it to the wig-master” she said, blushing.
“But why?” he asked, shocked at these news, “Your hair is so wonderful, why would you ever cut it?”
“To buy a turkey for dinner” she replied, now with sadness in her eyes, “I wanted it to be a gift for you”.
