There are places where the world is heavier. Sometimes it's the place itself (a tower, a road, a path); other times it's something that's there, something that gently warps reality around itself (a rose, a little scrimshaw turtle). And then sometimes, it's who's there - the people that press down just a little harder against the metaphysical rubber sheet of the universe.

Or, if you want to put it another way: like calls to like.

Somewhere out in the thick swirls of fog, someone draws in a deep breath, and then spits it back up in a loud, ragged cough.