Pebbles are always thirsty - I can tell this by the way they drink the rain. Theirs is a thirst for vanity: a beach full of rain worshipers, all competing to be the shiniest but beauty such as this is very fleeting.
Tides brush over them daily like a temporary varnish to fool them of their worth. Precious as they think they are each one aims to shine the longest, hoping to be spotted before the spell is broken, taken home in someone's pocket.
But oh, the disappointment! Pebble looks so different now: dull and rougher than remembered. The treasure hunter feels fooled and throws the unattractive stone. It whooshes through the air, lands somewhere in his garden; submerged in soil and then forgotten.