When a person may think of the noun "burn", the image that probably comes to mind is fire. Crackling wood, snapping twigs, a safe warmth radiating from flickering tongues of dancing yellows, oranges, whites, and blues. A person may picture it out in the woods, at a camping trip, in a stove's burner, in fireplaces; fire is essentially life. But it could also be death, scorching, painful, horrible death. Suffocating smoke. I learned this the hard way.
My name was Amanda Jones, and I died two years ago.